


May the Stars Guide you Home

by Rikkichi



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Children, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fenris and Anders learning to co-parent, M/M, Pretending To Be Married, Raising kids, Slow Burn, party in the fade, this kid is going to have like five mages teaching him magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 03:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10453941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikkichi/pseuds/Rikkichi
Summary: When the Inquisition calls Hawke away from home, Fenris has to raise their children by himself. As he quickly finds out, hiding from templars with two small children in tow is no easy task. Fortunately for him, there's a man out there who is dead set on helping them. The only problem with it is that his 'help' is the one person he never wanted to see again.





	1. Chapter 1

Night had already descended across the Free Marches. Though the moon was out, it was only a few days before the New Moon was out, so most of the light that night was provided by the occasional torch or campfire. Out there, in the countryside around Ansburg, the lights of the city did not pollute the sky. Anyone who was out that night would be able to see a sky full of bright stars, twinkling like fireflies. It may have been dark near the ground, but the sky was beautiful.

It was part of why Fenris liked living in that small cottage on a small farm. The security of being away from the city was the main reason, of course, but he could appreciate other parts as well. Sometimes, after everyone else had gone to sleep, he would step outside and appreciate the sight of the night sky. Long ago, back in Tevinter, he had never taken the time to even look up. Such a thing was unheard of, for a slave. After his escape, he had been too busy running to even think about what was over his head. Then in Kirkwall, the first time he actually stopped to look, he found that the light pollution blocked all but the brightest of the stars.

But out here, where he had both the time to look and the darkness to actually see? It was a beautiful sight. It helped with the nightmares, when Hawke was away or sleeping too soundly to be woken up. It also helped to remind him that the world was so much bigger than what little bit he had been focused on before. Fenris had an unfortunate habit of not looking at the big picture, and seeing the night sky like this helped to remind him that he needed to step back every now and then, lest he end up missing the forest for the trees.

That wasn't the only reason Fenris found himself staring up at the night sky, though. Tonight, instead of finding peace among the stars, he felt worry build up within him. He wondered if Hawke was out there, unable to sleep, looking up at those same stars herself. No letter had come yet- she had only been gone a week, so he wasn't expecting one any time soon- and until he got word that she had arrived safely he would probably spend many hours out there, staring at the stars and wondering when he would once again get to see the one thing in the world more beautiful than them.

For a moment, Fenris closed his eyes, remembering the last time he had seen her.

\---

_"I have to go. You saw the letter, you know what's waiting for me."_

_"I am not arguing that point, Hawke. I understand that you need to go. I'm saying that I should come with you."_

_"No, Fenris. You need to stay here. There's nobody for us to leave the boys with."_

_Hawke indicated to the bed across the room, where two small figures were curled up under the blankets, sleeping soundly through their parents' argument. It helped that Hawke and Fenris had both mastered the art of 'talk angry, but quietly' some time ago._

_Fenris took one look at the bed before returning his gaze to Hawke. "We can take them with us. It's not like we'll be sleeping in tents the whole time, there's an entire castle there."_

_"An entire castle in an active war zone," Hawke answered, putting emphasis on those last few words, "I won't drag them into this. Garrett can barely walk on his own without toppling over, and Malcolm gets into things too easily. They don't belong there."_

_"But we've only just begun building a life together. You cannot ask me to give it all up now!" Fenris was getting anxious, practically pleading the point with Hawke._

_Hawke closed the distance between them, cupping the side of Fenris' face tenderly. They were about the same height, but when Hawke had her boots on she had a slight advantage over Fenris. She leaned in and gave Fenris a slow kiss, pulling away only to speak once more. "I'm not saying 'goodbye'. I'm saying 'I will see you soon.' As soon as Corypheus is dead I will come right home, I promise."_

_"You shouldn't make promises if you're not completely sure that you can keep them," Fenris said bitterly._

_That earned a smile from Hawke. "What? After all these years, you doubt what I can do?"_

_"Never," Fenris said quickly, "It's not your skill I doubt. This isn't a fight you can handle alone-"_

_"-and you doubt the skill of those who will be watching my back," Hawke said, finishing Fenris' sentence, "I get it, I really do. But you have to trust me on this." She kissed him one last time. "Stay here, and wait for me."_

_As much as he hated to do so, Fenris relented. "…Alright. But you must come home as soon as you can, understand? No picking up wayward quests on your way back."_

_Hawke chuckled at that. "You have my word, love."_

\---

Only one week had passed since then, but already it felt like a lifetime. Each night he slept alone in their bed- once thought to be too small for them, but now it felt wide, empty, and cold- was agonizing. He often fell asleep long after the boys did, and his fitful nights woke him up well before the sun rose each morning. Sometimes he managed to catch a nap to help with his lack of sleep, but that was hard to do with two young boys to take care of. Any time he took his eyes off of them, they managed to get into something.

Sighing, Fenris gave up on stargazing for the night. He really needed to start sleeping better, or else he would start making careless mistakes. Mistakes like forgetting to put the tools well out of Garrett's reach, or overwatering the crops, or anything like that. He was the sole parent for the time being, so he needed to be on top of things and make sure his boys had everything they needed.

His boys. 

He felt a swell of pride even thinking those words.

_His boys._

Smiling to himself as he closed the door behind him, Fenris glanced across the room to where the small bed was. He and Hawke had talked about adding a second room onto the building, as it was quickly becoming too small to fit their growing family. Toys and extra clothes spilled out onto the floor, taking up far too much floor space. Fenris had to nudge one of the toy blocks out of the way as he stepped across the room, stopping in front of the occupied bed. 

The two boys laying there were fast asleep, curled up in their blankets with only their heads sticking out. Malcolm, the older of the two, had a mess of dirty-blonde hair that seemed to go everywhere. Fenris really needed to give him another haircut, he realized as he reached down to push the hair out of his eyes. The act made the small boy stir in his sleep, but he did not wake. Technically Malcolm wasn't his by blood, but that didn't matter to Fenris. He was the only father that boy knew, and Fenris wouldn't even think about calling him anything less than his son.

Next he looked at the smaller of the two, Garrett. He lacked the pointy ears that full-blooded elves had, but his skin was darker than Malcolm's and his hair was jet black, even darker than Hawke's was. That must have been his natural hair color, Fenris figured. Sometimes the other farmers questioned Malcolm's heritage, something that Fenris regularly tried to put to rest ("He looks just like his grandfather," he would say, despite having never met Hawke's father nor even remembering his own), but there was no denying that Garrett was his.

Just watching those two sleep peacefully warmed his heart. Never in his life did he think he would be lucky enough to even have a home, much less children of his own. It was a challenge at times, and there were definitely days where Fenris felt like he might rip out his hair in frustration, but he wouldn't trade this life for anything in the world. He loved his family: Hawke, Malcolm, and Garrett. They completed him, made him feel whole again. They made the nightmares easier to bear. They made him worry more, but they also helped to ease his worries. No matter where his life took him from here on out, he felt assured by the fact that his heart would always belong to them, and theirs to him.

So, he could wait a little while. Let Hawke go out and save the world again, he could be the dutiful father raising the kids while mother was away for work. It would be a challenge, but it was one he was prepared for.

"May the stars guide you home," he said quietly, his personal prayer for Hawke's safe return. 

She would come back. She had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll become clearer as the story goes on, but just to make it clear for now, this isn't a threesome story (not right now at least). Hawke romanced Fenris and Anders at separate times, Anders during parts 2 and 3 and Fenris in the time after they all fled Kirkwall. The Fenris/Anders part is going to come up later in the story, as you can probably guess from the tags.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there's graphic violence in this chapter.

Fenris did not particularly enjoy farming. It was an overall dull task, one that left his body aching by the end of the day. He was barely into his 30s and already he could feel himself getting old, and he suspected that constantly bending over to tend to crops had something to do with it. He had seen their neighbors many times, and he definitely noticed how many of the older generations had crooked backs, hunched over from years and years in the field.

Oh, how he longed to feel his sword in his hands again, cutting down slavers and bandits. Give him a good fight over growing food any day.

But it had to be done. He and Hawke had decided early on that mercenary work was not the life they wanted for their children, especially not when they were so young. Sometimes one of them took a quick job on the side to make extra money- usually escorting a shipment from Ansburg to Starkhaven, or something relatively tame like that- but for the most part they stuck to growing their own food and selling what they didn't eat. Along with the game they were able to get from the nearby forest, they were never left wanting.

Standing up, Fenris braced his hands against his back, stretching a bit. The root vegetables like radishes and carrots were the worst. At least with wheat he could take care of it standing up. But with these low-growing foods, he had to actually crouch down to pick off any grubs that tried to eat the leaves. It was absolutely horrible, and he couldn't wait until the boys were old enough that he could get them to do it for him. They would probably love playing with any bugs they found, Fenris routinely caught them poking at caterpillars and stinkbugs.

"Hello over there," A voice called from the road.

Fenris looked over, and he saw a familiar face: it was the farmer who lived down the road from them, three farms away. He was easily in his 60s, and had long-since gone grey and wrinkled, but somehow he still managed to do farm work faster than Fenris could. He had his horse and cart out that day, Fenris noticed. He must have been heading to Ansburg to sell the results of an early harvest. Fenris gave him a wave, and then he told the boys to stay in the yard while he went over to see what the farmer wanted.

"It's good to see you up bright and early," the farmer said cheerfully as Fenris stopped by the gate. He didn't step out, instead choosing to lean against it.

"Early," Fenris asked, raising an eyebrow, "It's nearly noon."

"Yes, yes, but you must have been working since early, to have worked up such a sweat," the farmer said with a laugh. 

Fenris fought the urge to frown. He didn't particularly care about how clean or dirty he was- it only mattered to him if Hawke thought he was too stinky to kiss- but having it pointed out was still annoying. But he fought the urge to snap back, remembering that he had to play nice with the neighbors. They wanted to stay here for a long time yet, so making enemies over harmless comments was not worth it.

Times like this made Fenris miss Hawke. She had far more patience than he did.

Fenris ultimately decided to steer the conversation down another path, to a hopefully less irritating topic. "Going to market this early in the year," he asked.

"Yeah, we managed to get an early harvest out of the lettuce. The extra money'll go a long way towards fixing our pasture fence." The farmer paused, glancing over to Fenris' field, before speaking again. "Do you need to take a trip too? My wagon's full today, but I can be back by tomorrow if you need it."

"No, thank you," Fenris answered, "It will be a few weeks yet before I am ready for that. But I will send word when it is time."

The farmer nodded in understanding. "If you want, you can send the missus around for that. My wife, she wanted to talk with her about pie-making in the fall."

Fenris nearly snorted at that. Hawke was a lot of things, but a pie-maker was not one of them. The farmer's wife would be sorely disappointed if she expected Hawke to do anything with a pie other than burn it. But the thought of Hawke baking reminded Fenris of just how empty the house felt without her around, and he couldn't cover up the frown that spread across his face.

He would have liked to just leave it at that, but he noticed the farmer's curious look, and he knew that he had to satisfy that curiosity. Otherwise rumors would start, and with templars scouring the land for anything that sounded even remotely odd, rumors were a terrible thing to start. "I would, but she is not home at the moment," Fenris said finally, "She…her father passed away, and she had to return to Ferelden to see to his final wishes."

It was a lie he and Hawke had decided on before she had left, to explain her absence. Ferelden was far enough away that her taking a long time going there and back would be understandable, and with everything going on there since the explosion at the Conclave it would be expected for her to not take the whole family with her. It was the perfect excuse, provided that her mission didn't take years and years to finish.

And the story worked, too. As soon as he heard that explanation, the farmer's face softened up. "My condolences," he said, removing his hat in respect for a moment, "Hopefully her trip goes well and she is able to make peace with what happened."

Fenris let out a noise of agreement, but said no more than that. Letting conversations fall to silence was a quick way to end them, he had found.

"Well, I should be going," the farmer said, returning his hat to the top of his head, "But before I go, there's one last thing I have to tell you."

Looking up, Fenris gave the man a curious look. The farmer took that as a cue to keep talking, and he looked to the left and right before stepping a little closer, speaking quietly as he did so. He obviously did not want to be overheard. "There's been rumors of a mage running around these parts lately. A healer of some sort, they say. Now I know you ain't got a lick of magic in you, you've been living here for years and nothing strange has ever happened. But those templars, they don't care about stuff like that. And some of 'em, they think all elves have magic. So take care of yourself, alright? And if you need to lay low for a bit, my wife and I can help you out. The others around here would do the same too, I think."

The honesty and generosity that the farmer offered, even to someone who had only been a neighbor for about four years, it was completely unexpected. Fenris was touched by the offer, though. Not that he would ever take them up on it, he would don his armor and run off with the boys before he put anyone else in danger. But just the mere offer reminded him of how far he had come, to have neighbors willing to look out for him and his family like that.

"Thank you," Fenris said, the graciousness in his voice genuine for once, "Hopefully it does not come to that, but I will keep it in mind."

The farmer tipped his hat towards Fenris in acknowledgement, and then he started off down the road, leaving Fenris there at his gate. He waited a few moments, watching the farmer and his cart leave, before turning to look back to his boys playing in the garden. They had found a grub, and Malcolm was poking at it with a stick while Garrett watched warily. Fenris could feel a smile begin to tug at the corner of his mouth, but he couldn't let himself relax right then. If there really was a mage nearby, then he needed to prepare for the worst. The farmer had been absolutely right in his assumptions: Fenris was no mage, but people regularly assumed that he was, thanks to both his elvish heritage and the lyrium markings on his skin. Nobody here knew what they actually were for- Fenris had been careful not to use them after they had settled down at this farmhouse- and so many people just assumed that Fenris was a former-Dalish. This town was mostly humans, with a few dwarves mixed in here and there, so it wasn't like any Dalish elves would be around to correct their misunderstanding. But Fenris hadn't exactly hidden his abilities back before moving here, and they were still close enough to Kirkwall that someone could presumably travel from there and recognize him. It was a day he hoped never came, but he knew better than to assume he was safe.

Tucked under his bed was a trunk, and in that trunk was his sword and armor. The trunk was only half-full now, as it had previously held Hawke's mage robes and staff as well. Alongside that was a single travel bag, which Fenris kept stocked with food and a change of clothes for everyone. If they ever needed to flee, they could be ready to go in under 20 minutes. It would be difficult to leave everything else behind, but their lives mattered more than the stuff they had accumulated over the last few years.

He should go through that travel bag and make sure that it was freshly stocked, he decided. It wouldn't do any good if the food in there was spoiled.

\---

They had three days of peace, three days of everyday life, just like the years before. Fenris was on edge during those three days, but he kept that to himself. He didn't want to needlessly worry the boys. Or Malcolm, at least. Garrett was only three, so he hadn't yet learned how to tell if his father was worried or not. He was still wrapped up in his own little toddler-world, which was a small blessing. Malcolm, who was six-going-on-sixty, picked up on Fenris' feelings way too easily. It was all Fenris could do to smile and tell him that everything was fine.

It wasn't until the fourth day that it finally happened. That afternoon, Fenris was sitting under a tree in the garden with his boys. Garrett was in his lap, playing with a couple of sticks he had found (which Fenris had to remove from his mouth a few times), while Malcolm was sitting nearby with a book in his lap. Hawke was much better at reading than Fenris was, but with her gone it was up to him to continue with Malcolm's reading lessons.

"In the year Exalted 42, King Cal…Calin…Cal-in-hide…"

"Calenhad Theirin."

"-King Calenhad Theirin united the tribes of…Al-ah-mar-ri…"

"Yes, it's 'Alamarri'."

"Alamarri under a singe-le…sing-lee…Dad, these words are too hard!"

"They're only hard because they're new to you. With practice, they will become easier."

Malcolm scowled down at the book, as if glaring at it would make it suddenly easier to read. It was absolutely hilarious to watch, and Fenris' snort of laughter only served to deepen the boy's scowl and turn it on Fenris himself. In moments like this, Malcolm reminded him of his father, his blood-related father. At first that thought had disturbed Fenris; he had wanted to forget about that man entirely. But as time passed, Fenris had come to terms with it. It was hard to deny the resemblance, even if Malcolm had Hawke's eyes. And now, after having raised Malcolm and claimed him as his own son, he could see those similarities in a different light. They weren't negative because they connected Malcolm to a bad past, they were positive because they reclaimed a once-negative trait and turned them into something positive. Even if Fenris had hated that scowl whenever he had seen it four years ago, he loved it now. Bit by bit, his bitterness over the past was being chipped away.

"Let's take a break then," Fenris said, moving to liberate the book from Malcolm's tight grip before it got ripped, "we can check on the strawberries again and see if any of them are ripe."

The word 'strawberries' made Garrett look up suddenly, and he quietly said back " 'berries" as he opened and closed his hand in a grabbing motion. Even if Malcolm decided against an afternoon treat, they would have to find some now anyway.

Fenris set Garrett down on the ground, and then he moved to stand up. As he did, he happened to notice a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye, which turned his attention fully to the road in front of the house.

Templars. At least six of them, in full armor, marching down the road. 

Fenris felt his throat go dry.

Evidently he wasn't the only one who had noticed them, as he soon felt a small hand tugging on his shirt sleeve. "Who's that?"

Fenris took a half-step forward, gently pushing Malcolm behind him. "Take Garrett inside," he said, using a calm-but-firm voice. It was apparently enough to get the seriousness of the situation across, because Malcolm wordlessly picked up Garrett and half-carried, half-dragged him inside, shutting the door behind him. Once the boys were safely inside, Fenris walked forward, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible. 

He made it nearly to the gate by the time the templars arrived. They didn't even wait for his invitation, instead opening the gate and stepping in on their own. Fenris stopped where he was and waited for them to address him.

The one in the front- the leader of the group, Fenris guessed- was the one to speak up. "You there. Elf." His words were very harsh and unforgiving, automatically assuming the worst. "We're looking for an apostate who has been seen in this area recently. What information do you have for us?"

"You're being a bit presumptuous, to assume that I have associated with this mage of yours," Fenris said, sneering as he said the word 'mage'. His hatred of mages was a complicated topic, especially now, but falling back into those old habits was the safest way to go. He still despised magic in general, and if he made that point clear, then maybe that would be enough for the templars. "If I had seen any mage, I would have turned them in right away. I don't want them mucking up my home."

Apparently this wasn't enough for the templar, though. "We've heard the same thing all day," he said, the forcefulness in his voice growing, "'he's not here', 'there's no mages living in these parts', bah! I know they're all lying, I've smelled the stench of magic in the air around here. And these families, they've lived here for generations." The templar took one step closer to Fenris. "All of them but one."

Fenris felt the blood in his veins run cold. He knew the sound of a voice that couldn't be reasoned with. He had thought that they would be safer here, far away from the main areas of conflict in the mage-templar war. He had thought that the templars here wouldn't jump at every little accusation of magic. It looked as though he had been wrong in his assumptions, though.

Still, he had to try. He hadn't used his sword in years, and even then it was locked away under his bed. Short of phasing through them and ripping their hearts out, he had no way of defending himself. "Yes, I am a new face around here," Fenris admitted, "But that is because mages destroyed my home and forced me to flee. I am not the mage you are looking for, nor do I know where they might be. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do-"

One of the other templars, the one just to the right of the leader of the group, reached out and grabbed Fenris' shoulder roughly. It took all of his focus to keep his lyrium marks from flaring up in anger. "Get your hands off me," he said, as he tried to pull free of the Templar's grip. He found it to be quite tight, though.

"You're not going anywhere," the lead templar said, and he started to draw his weapon, "And if you resist then I'll kill you where you stand and burn your farm to the ground, apostate. You better think of your loved ones' well-being before you try any funny business."

That was it. Threats to his own life he could take, but threats to his home? His family? That was too far.

The marks on Fenris' skin began to glow, and he phased through the templar's grip, jutting forward. He materialized his hand within the templar's chest, ripping his heart out. The templar fell to the ground, gurgling in pain with his last breaths.

The other four templars besides the leader, who already had his weapon drawn, quickly drew their swords. Fenris ducked under the first swing, then the second, and then his fist buried in the chest of the second templar. That one fell as quickly as the first.

He turned, rolled to the side, then sprung to his feet again. His movements were nowhere near as smooth as they had been years ago, but without his armor weighing him down he found that he could move quickly. But he had to be careful, he couldn't stay in a phased state the entire time, and one strike with a sword would be enough to take him down entirely.

By then, the remaining templars were screaming "Mage!" and "Get him!" and Fenris knew that his cover was blown. In the middle of the day like this, there was no way the fight would go unnoticed. Nearly four years of work, down the drain. He would have to leave with the boys, and since he hadn't received a letter from Hawke yet he still didn't know how to contact her. How would he let her know what had happened?

But letting his mind wander like that proved to be a huge mistake. As he tried to dodge around another sword, he ended up not pulling back far enough, and the tip cut open the front of his shirt and left a shallow gash across his chest. Fenris hissed in pain and fell back, holding a hand to the gash. He really wished he had his armor right then, a cut like that would have been nothing. 

The four templars followed after him, all aiming to cut him down. Fenris managed to grab a sword from one of the fallen templars, and he used that to strike a well-placed hit against one of the templar's arms, effectively disarming him. Another swing sent him off-balance, and finally he stabbed that sword into the gap between the templar's helmet and chest piece, piercing his throat. The third templar fell to the ground, dying.

Three down, three more to go.

Fenris' luck would not hold out, though. As another templar tried to stab at him with a sword, Fenris jumped back once more. This time, though, his back hit one of the wooden posts of his farm's fence. Before he even had the chance to move around it, the templar struck, driving his sword straight through Fenris' left shoulder. Fenris screamed out in pain and tried to roll away again, but he found that the sword had gone through his shoulder entirely, pinning him to the fence post.

It was horrendous. Fenris tried to will his left arm to move, to grab the sword and pull it out, but all he could do was make his fingers twitch a little. So instead he reached up with his right arm and grabbed onto the hilt, attempting to yank it out. He was too weak, though, and all the movement did was send pain shooting up his spine. Next he tried focusing on his lyrium marks, attempting to go incorporeal and simply phase out of the sword entirely, but he found that he couldn't hold that form for long enough to do so. He was hurt, drained, and trapped.

Tsking, the lead templar stepped forward. "This could have ended differently if you had just surrendered," the templar said, raising his sword high above Fenris' head. 

Fenris could already feel darkness pulling at the edges of his vision. He was going to die here, leaving behind his children to Maker knows what fate, and there was nothing he could do about it.

As his head drooped down in acceptance of his fate, all he could think of was Hawke and how she would come home to find an empty home. After losing so much of her family over the years, she was about to lose everything.

The last thing Fenris saw before he blacked out entirely was a flash of blue and a rush of cold air, followed by the surprised shouts of the remaining templars.


	3. Chapter 3

Time passed in an instant for Fenris. One moment he was blacking out, and the next he was waking up with a startled gasp. His time unconscious had been dreamless, which explained the lack of any passage of time from his point of view, but it left him confused and on-edge. He definitely remembered fighting the templars and almost dying, and by his recollection he should have been outside and in crippling pain. Instead, he was laying in his bed, and his shoulder was in considerably less pain than it should have been.

He was still very stiff though, as he found out when he tried to sit up. He tried to put weight on his left arm, and it nearly buckled underneath him. Yep, it was still hurt. It was doing better, but it was going to be hurting for a while. So instead he shifted his weight to his right arm , and he pushed himself up to sitting.

It had to be evening, what with the lack of light coming from the windows and the presence of a fire in the fireplace. It wasn't cold that night, what with it being the end of spring and all, but a fire was still needed for cooking and keeping light inside in the late hours. The fireplace gave off enough light that Fenris was able to see just who was in his house that night, too.

It had been years since Fenris had seen that familiar black coat and blonde hair, but he wouldn't have ever forgotten it. Wrinkles had begun to form at the corners of his eyes, but it wasn't enough to obscure his identity or his age. And he still had that stupid ponytail too, he wasn't even trying to hide who he was!

Fenris sneered, and he opened his mouth to say something particularly cruel, but then he noticed something else important: Malcolm and Garrett were sitting there too, listening with full attention given to the speaker. That made Fenris hold his tongue (he was trying to watch his language in front of the boys, they parroted everything he said), but just seeing that made his blood boil. He was there, acting like he belonged, when he had no right whatsoever to that level of familiarity.

"Mage," Fenris spat out. It was the best he could do to show his absolute repulsion at the situation without saying something improper in front of his kids.

"Fenris." Anders didn't sound as angry as Fenris did, but there were definitely some daggers hidden behind those words. The dislike was mutual, but so was the decision to keep it relatively civil in front of the kids.

Fenris shifted in bed, moving to get out fully, but before he could do that Anders spoke up again. "You need to rest. I did as much healing as I could, but there's only so much I can accomplish in one day. It's going to take several attempts to get you back to full health."

Before Fenris could respond to that, Malcolm pulled himself to his feet and ran over to Fenris' bed. The smile on his face couldn't possibly be wider. "Dad! He did magic! Real magic, that made you feel better! He's a spirit healer, and he's using his magic for good, just like mom does!" Either he was completely unaware of the tension in the air, or he was purposefully ignoring it. The former was most likely.

"We're not supposed to talk about that, remember," Fenris said, gently reprimanding Malcolm for forgetting again. But even as he spoke to Malcolm, his distrustful gaze remained on Anders. 

"But Daaaad, there's no templars here! Nobody's gonna hear it but us!" Malcolm was only six, but already he was reaching the age where he started to push back against what he was told. It was frustrating, and Fenris wasn't quite sure how to curb that behavior. Hawke was always much better at making the kids- and anyone, really- see the reasonable answer. Once again he said a silent prayer, willing her to come home soon.

Fenris only broke his stare-off with Anders when he felt tiny hands grasping at the blanket. He looked down and saw Garrett attempting to pull himself up into Fenris' bed, though he was having a hard time of it. Fenris watch for a few moments, letting Garrett try to puzzle it out on his own, but he finally relented and pulled Garrett up into his lap (with his good arm; thankfully Garrett was still small enough to pick up one-handed). Once there, Garrett gave Fenris a frowny look and said, "Da."

"Yes, little one?" 

Garrett put his hands on Fenris' chest and pushed, like he was trying to push Fenris over, but he was nowhere near strong enough to do so. Still, he kept pushing as he said, "Go sleep."

Fenris let out a small 'hmph', the closest he would get to an amused noise that night. He was too on-edge to fully appreciate how adorable his son was being, but he could still offer him some comfort. While holding him with his right arm, he reached up with his left hand- being careful to move slowly, so he didn't strain his already-hurt shoulder- and ran a hand through Garrett's black hair. "Soon. I need to talk with our…guest."

He couldn't say 'piece of trash mage asshole' in front of the kids, so 'guest' would have to do.

Then he looked up to Malcolm and said, "Take your brother and go get ready for bed, alright? I'll be just a moment."

Thankfully, Malcolm didn't argue this time. While the two boys busied themselves with dressing for the night and tidying up their bed, Fenris forced himself out of his own and stood up. His legs still worked, thankfully. He strode across the room, silently indicating to Anders to go outside. He wasn't about to have this talk in front of the boys, not with how loud it was bound to get.

Stepping outside, Fenris saw just how late it was. He was honestly surprised that the boys hadn't already nodded off, what with how high up the moon was in the sky. The afternoon must have been eventful, for them to still be awake like that. A moment later Fenris realized just how bad the afternoon must have been: their father had nearly been killed, and a strange man had suddenly appeared to save the day. That was certainly enough to work both of them up.

As soon as the door was closed, Fenris turned on Anders. "Why are you here," he said, not yet raising his voice but still keeping a calm anger present in his tone.

Anders was having none of it, though. He crossed his arms in front of himself, giving Fenris attitude as he said, "Isn't it obvious? I couldn't just let you bleed out right there."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Fenris seethed, "Why are you _here_ , in Ansburg?"

"I was passing through when I heard about some injured farmers who needed healing. I took care of them, and then I heard some stories about the people of this area, and I decided to investigate. And it's a good thing I did stay, the templars certainly did a number on you."

Anders was not telling the full truth, and Fenris knew it. That kind of shady, half-story with vague details was exactly the kind of talk he gave when he was hiding something. "Last warning, Mage," Fenris said, deliberately using that word instead of Anders' name, "I don't care if you saved my life or not, if you're not going to be truthful then I will gut you myself. Why. Are. You. Here?"

Anders sighed, but he seemed ready to finally relent. Fenris was not at all prepared for the answer he had to give, though. "I was looking for you. Well, Hawke and Malcolm actually, but it was easier to follow descriptions of you."

"Hawke isn't here right now," Fenris said automatically, but then he stopped for a moment. Anders was looking for Malcolm? "Why do you need them?"

"Because I wanted to see my son?" The tone Anders had implied that it should have been an obvious answer.

It was what Fenris had suspected, but that didn't make the absolute rage that started to boil within Fenris calm down any. "He is not your son," he said, jabbing his index finger in Anders' direction in a threatening manner, "You lost the right to call him such when you walked out of his life four years ago."

"I didn't leave because I wanted to! And that's not how it even works, Fenris! I don't suddenly stop being his father just because I'm separated from him!" At least with Anders raising his voice first, Fenris didn't feel so bad about raising his own in turn. 

Which he did. He took a step towards Anders, still pointing at him, as he said, "You were gone! You blew up the Chantry and ran away the first chance you got! And don't feed me that line about Hawke telling you to go, you have disregarded her instructions in the past! You could have stayed and taken responsibility for your actions, but you didn't. And when you weren't there, I had to step up and be Malcolm's father."

Fenris paused long enough to turn his finger to himself, poking himself in the chest to emphasize his point. "I was the one who ran with him and Hawke when they were chased from Kirkwall. I was the one who stayed up with him through the months of nightmares after. I was the one who bandaged his injuries, who soothed his worries, who helped him conquer his fears. I'm the only father he even remembers having! If you think you can just walk on in years after the fact and act like you were never gone, then you're dead wrong! You had your chance, and you blew it."

Finally, he turned in place and indicated to the path that led to the road in front of his house. "You should leave. Now. Before I change my mind and add your carcass to the pile of templars I have to bury in the forest."

Fenris could see the hurt on Anders' face, and part of him felt good that what he had said hurt Anders so much. But, oddly enough, it wasn't really a sense of satisfaction at hurting Anders. Years ago, he would have felt that satisfaction. But now it was more like a way to calm his anger, to punish Anders for failing Malcolm. It was more meant to soothe a hurt, rather than to hurt someone else just for the sake of hurting them. Fenris wasn't sure if the change was a positive one, but he figured it would be easier to justify, if Hawke ended up finding out about all of this.

"I'm not going anywhere," Anders said as he regained his composure, "I need to be here. If you want to call yourself his father, then fine. Take that title for now. But you can't be his father if you're dead. You need me, if only to heal you."

This was all wrong. Why was Anders being so reasonable about this? Fenris had just said horrible, hurtful things to him! He should be seething in anger, ready to fight! Fenris narrowed his eyes. "What are you playing at here?"

That managed to draw out the irritation in Anders. "What, now you're going to accuse me of being insincere?"

"Yes, I am," Fenris said bluntly. Might as well get all of the cards on the table, he figured. "You hate me, and you obviously just want to see Malcolm. I'm injured, and you could easily just take him and run. So why are you playing the role of 'the bigger man' here?"

"Well first off, I couldn't just 'run off' with him. You would kill me, and even if I got away he would never forgive me." So Anders wasn't a complete idiot, at least. Fenris felt his anger dip slightly, but he stayed firm as he listened to the rest of Anders' explanation. "And secondly, that's not what I want. I'm an apostate on the run, what kind of life could I even offer him? I just want to see him, that's all."

"You're still hiding something," Fenris said, still glaring at Anders. He wasn't going to relent until he had the full truth from him.

For a moment, Anders stumbled over his words, clearly trying to piece together some lie that would satisfy Fenris' questioning. But ultimately he must have decided that he couldn't, because he seemed to deflate a little as he sighed. Looking away, he said, "I'm dying."

Well. That wasn't the answer Fenris had been expecting. It was enough to shock the glare right off of his face, at least. "What?"

"I said I'm dying. Not right this second, but it's not far off. Justice, he…"Anders trailed off for a moment, clearly struggling with his words. "He's ripping me apart at the seams. I know he wants full control of me, and each day is a battle to keep him in check. It's a losing battle too: someday I won't be able to hold him back, and he will consume me. At this rate, I've got about five years before that happens. Maybe even less."

Anders looked up once more, meeting Fenris' gaze. "You're absolutely right: I ran away, and I don't deserve to call myself a father. That's the one regret in my life I haven't made peace with yet, and I'd like the chance to, before I'm gone. Just…let me help, Fenris. Let me try, and as soon as this all blows over I'll be out of your hair for good. I just want to do right by him while I still can."

As much as he hated to admit it, Fenris probably did need the help. The injuries to his shoulder were extensive, and it would never heal right without the help of magic. Not only that, but more templars were bound to come when they realized that their dispatch had never returned. Which meant clever lying, or running away entirely before they caught up. Fenris remembered the first time he had run, when it was just him, Hawke, and Malcolm. Even with two adults to care for one child, it had been an exhausting journey. There was no way Fenris could care for both his sons and his own injuries all at the same time, while on the road running for their lives. He was going to need help from someone, and Anders was his only option at the moment.

And besides that, Anders' story did resonate with him. He had expected to feel no sympathy for the mage, as this was entirely his own fault in the first place. He wouldn't be in this position if he hadn't offered up his body to a spirit. But if he was speaking honestly- something Fenris still had doubts about, but he was still willing to entertain the idea for now, if only because he actually did need Anders' help- then all he wanted was to do right by Malcolm. Out of everything that Anders could have possibly said, that was the one thing that actually did move Fenris a little. Children, especially his own children, were the one true weakness Fenris had. He might try to be tough and act like the stern father, but those boys had him wrapped around their little fingers. He would do absolutely anything for them, and for someone else to acknowledge that they felt the same way, that was one of the extremely few topics that was actually somewhat of a good way to win Fenris over.

So, he relented. In his own, Fenris-way of relenting, at least. "If you're going to stay here, then you're going to follow my rules. Break any of them and you're gone. Understand?"

Anders nodded quickly, but kept quiet. 

"One," Fenris said, holding up a single finger, "I am the father here. You are an interloper who is playing houseguest for an extremely short period of time. Whatever I say goes."

He didn't even wait for Anders to nod in confirmation before he held up a second finger. "Two: You will not push Malcolm to call you 'father', 'dad', 'papa', or anything else like that. If he ends up deciding that on his own that's one thing, but you are not allowed to push him in that direction."

A third finger went up. "Three: No teaching him magic."

That was the point where Anders began to protest. "If he's a mage then he's going to have to learn how to control it. You can't just say 'no magic' and expect him not to mess around with it."

"Hawke will teach him when she comes back, and that is assuming he is even a mage in the first place." Fenris was no fool. Malcolm was the son of two extremely powerful mages, there was no chance in hell that he wasn't going to be a mage. But Fenris could keep up that air of denial for at least a couple more years, and hopefully Hawke would be back (and Anders gone) before any of that nonsense happened. Fenris hated magic, and he hated thinking about his son becoming a mage, but he knew that fighting his nature would not go well. He just didn't want Anders involved in it at all.

"Rule four," he said, bringing the point back around to his original goal, "No favoritism. There's two boys here, and you will not act like Garrett doesn't exist just because he is not related to you. I don't want Malcolm to get it into his head that he can disregard his brother like that." Fenris saw Anders go to speak, so he cut him off at the pass. "This does not mean you get to be fatherly to Garrett, just that you need to be fair to him. If you go off buying Malcolm a sweet, then you better get one for Garrett too."

"And rule five: When Hawke comes home, you are to leave. No ifs, ands, or buts. Your only chance to 'make things up' is now. And if you have any problems with any of these rules, then you can go ahead and leave now, because I am not changing my mind." Fenris let his hand drop then, and he waited for some kind of confirmation from Anders.

Anders did mull over those points for a moment, clearly trying to weigh if it was worth it to try to stick to those rules. But ultimately he nodded and said, "Alright. I will abide by your rules." 

Once again, Fenris was almost disappointed by how quickly Anders gave in. Four years ago he never would have given in that quickly. What in the world had happened to make him like this?

No, Fenris didn't need to travel down that rabbit hole. Anders was not his problem, and he would be gone soon enough. He didn't need to go finding out about everything that was going wrong with his life. He just had to put up with his presence for a little while, and that was it.

"Good," he said finally, "And you better keep at it. I'm giving you this chance, but don't mistake that for my trust." 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Anders responded, falling back to a much more familiar tone. That one was almost comforting to hear, as it reminded Fenris of the past, when he and Anders would just go at each other any time they were in the same room. The familiarity was comforting, even if it did make him agitated.

Just a few weeks, Fenris told himself. A few weeks of this, and then they could go back to their normal lives. 

Assuming they managed to avoid the attention of the templars. And assuming Hawke finished her mission and came home quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I do not plan on writing out Anders dying in this fic. Plans might change, of course, but the whole part about his upcoming death is more to explain why he has to be there now, as opposed to waiting until Malcolm is grown up and trying to reconnect then. There will be some sad scenes involving that fact, but overall it's not going to be the main focus of this story. The whole 'Fenris and Anders tolerating each other enough to raise kids together' thing is the most important part.
> 
> Also I think I forgot to mention it before, but this is a timeline in which Hawke sided with the mages, but sent Anders away instead of asking for his help.


	4. Chapter 4

The trouble began almost instantly, and infuriatingly enough it wasn't even Anders' fault. If it had been, Fenris could have just said 'you broke the rules, get out' and have been done with it. But no, Anders was following the rules to the letter, not giving Fenris a single chance to tell him to leave. It was the children that were causing the trouble.

First it was over sleeping arrangements. There were only two beds in the house, and Fenris was absolutely not giving up his bed to Anders. But the other bed was for the boys, and Fenris was not going to let Anders share a bed with either of them. His thought was to tell Anders to sleep on the floor, which he probably would have done without complaint (thanks to rule 1). But Malcolm quickly spoke up to tell Fenris just how unfair that arrangement was, and he proceeded to throw a fit when Fenris tried to tell him that nothing could be done about it. Said fit was also enough to make Garrett start to cry too, and Anders just stood there with a wide-eyed look on his face. Nobody in that house was helpful at all.

In the end, Malcolm and Garrett ended up in Fenris' bed while Anders took their bed. It meant that Fenris got almost no sleep whatsoever, since Garrett seemed insistent on the fact that he needed to put his head down on Fenris' injured shoulder like it was a comfy pillow or something. No amount of shifting and careful movement made that any more bearable. But hey, at least the boys slept well, and he felt slightly less lonely than he had since Hawke had left.

The next day was slightly better, since Anders used his magic on Fenris' shoulder first thing in the morning, dulling the throbbing ache that had set in. Anders also proved to be a great source of free labor on the farm, while Fenris was 'too injured to work' and had to go make a house call to a certain neighbor. Interestingly enough, someone (probably Anders, he realized) had already cleaned up the mess of templar bodies in the yard. Unless someone looked closely enough at the fence to notice the bloodstains, or at the backyard and noticed the freshly-turned earth, nobody would have been able to tell that a bloody battle had taken place there 24 hours ago.

The trip to see the neighbor was uneventful, thankfully. It was only a 20-minute walk over there, but Fenris was still on-edge, expecting templars to jump out and gut him at any moment. The elderly farmer- the one from before, who had offered Fenris his cart and horse- was thankfully wise enough to not ask too many questions when Fenris asked him to watch the farm for him 'in case he had to go away on sudden business'. He also left a letter with the farmer, just in case he did have to leave and Hawke returned to an empty farm. A second copy of the letter was also left in the trunk under the bed, but this one was just in case the farm got destroyed or something.

The letter was carefully crafted, so that only Hawke would understand the meaning:

_Marian-_

_If you find this letter before you find us, look for me at the place I declared my commitment to both of you. I will be waiting there on our true anniversary._

Many people knew where Hawke and Fenris had met- damn that book Varric had written- but almost nobody knew that the place he was referring to was the docks at Kirkwall, where Fenris had decided to go with Hawke and Malcolm, to claim Malcolm as his own child in an effort to protect both of them. And as for their true anniversary…well, nobody knew that date besides Fenris and Hawke, so even if someone managed to get the right location they would never get the right date.

Satisfied that he had left enough of a trail for Hawke to find him, Fenris returned home, and he began his preparations.

It was only a matter of time before the templars came looking for him. They would come this way eventually, following the other group's mission to try and locate them, and they were bound to stumble across Fenris' farm. Even if they had no proof that anything had happened, they would jump to the same conclusions that the previous group of templars had. And even if they were so dull that they noticed nothing and assumed nothing, Anders was there and he had that damn demon in his head that would jump at the chance to kill templars. Fenris did not want to take a second stab at fighting off a half-dozen trained warriors, not with how he had barely made it out of the last fight. No, they needed to leave for a while, at least until the templar activity calmed down. 

Thankfully most of everything was already packed, but he took some time to add a few other things (a couple maps, the money he had on-hand, some extra food to account for Anders). Getting into his armor proved difficult, and not just because of his shoulder either. Farm life was very different from a mercenary's life, and his armor just didn't fit quite the same way anymore. It was loose in some places and tight in others, though it was not to the point where he would opt to go without armor entirely. He would just have to tough it out until he got used to it.

While the boys played in the garden, picking the dead flowers and throwing them at each other in some strange child's game, Fenris pulled Anders aside so they could pour over the maps together. Anders had been on the road far more than Fenris had in the last few years, so he would know more about the best ways to travel. He laid the map out on the table, indicating to Kirkwall on the map. "This is where we're going."

"After everything that happened four years ago," Anders asked incredulously, "Do you have a death wish?"

"It's our best option. I lived there for several years, I should be able to find places to hide or rumors to chase. Hawke and Varric won't be anywhere near there, but the others might be." Fenris was not exactly keen on calling for favors from old friends. He got along well enough with Isabela (though asking for a favor from her was courting danger), and he and Aveline were on tolerable terms at least (except he was sure she would be upset if he showed up with Anders in tow), but he wanted nothing to do with Merrill, and Sebastian definitely didn't want anything to do with any of them. But with two small children to think about, he didn't have many options. Fenris could have roughed it in the woods for a year, but that was too much to ask of the boys. They needed a home to stay in while they were hiding.

And though he did not say it, there was another reason why Fenris wanted to go there. When Hawke came home, she would have to pass through the port in Kirkwall to do so. Fenris could watch for her return there, and meet up with her weeks before she would have made it back to Ansburg.

Anders, however, seemed to disagree. He wasn't speaking up yet, but Fenris saw that look on his face- that glare-and-frown combination that he seemed to do oh so well- and eventually he gave up and said, "Do you have a better idea," in an exasperated tone.

"Actually, I do. And since you are asking for my input-" Anders indicated to a city deep within Orlais, far to the southwest of the Free Marches. "This would be a better choice."

Fenris looked down at the map, squinting slightly to read the words there. Curse the tiny print on that map, it was always a pain to read. "Val Firmin? Why there?"

"It's close enough to Montsimmard that the trip could be made in a day or two if need be. That is the Orlaisian headquarters for the Grey Wardens, but the city is large and could be dangerous, especially since I will be with you. It would be best to stay nearby and only go into the city itself when needed."

"And why would we need to be there, exactly?" Fenris didn't profess to know all of the details of Anders' life, but he was pretty sure that he was not on good terms with the Grey Wardens.

"Carver is likely to be there, or at the very least we would be able to find out where he is," Anders said, "Given the fact that we'll have his nephews in tow, I think he would be the most sympathetic to our problems."

"It almost sounds plausible, except for the part where it is _right in the middle of the mage-templar war_ ," Fenris said, his tone dropping with those last few words. Never mind that he had wanted to drag the boys to that same area not even two weeks ago, if only to be with Hawke. When it was Anders suggesting the dangerous ideas, they were foolish.

"Yes, I know," Anders said, running a hand through his hair in what appeared to be a self-calming motion, "But you said you were looking for help. That would be our best shot at help."

"Not if it means risking death or worse just to get there. Kirkwall is far from ideal, but at least we stand a better chance of not getting stabbed in the back because we were mistaken for an enemy."

"It wouldn't even be a problem if the templars would just acknowledge that mages have a right to live freely!"

"We wouldn't even need to run in the first place if not for-" Fenris cut himself off abruptly, as he recognized the all-too-familiar glow of Justice trying to manifest. Nope, he wasn't dealing with that right then. "-Don't even start with that right now, Mage. This is for the boys, not your cause."

For a few seconds there, both of the men were relatively silent as Anders struggled to keep Justice under control. He scrunched up his face and dug into the sides of his head with his hands, gripping the hair there tightly. He didn't yank it out, thankfully, but he came pretty close. The glowing died down, and Anders suddenly leaned against the table, breathing heavily.

"I'm alright," Anders said as his breathing slowed, "It just- I'm fine. It's me, not him."

Fenris didn't even realize that his hand had gone to the hilt of his sword until Anders had spoken up. He quickly let go, letting the arm drop back to his side, before pulling it up against his chest as he crossed his arms. If this was going to be a constant risk, then he wasn't so sure that he wanted to keep Anders around anymore. As tough as the trip would be on his own, it would probably be safer that way.

Before he could stop himself, he ended up giving Anders a chance to explain himself. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Anders said quickly, letting go of his head and looking up to Fenris with his eyes ( _his_ eyes, not Justice's) full of determination, "I can still control it. I still have time." He paused there for a moment, and his look faltered as he glanced away and added, "…perhaps we should stay away from talk about the war, though."

"Agreed," Fenris said simply, and he started to roll up the map, "We will head west, then due south to Kirkwall. Once there I will decide if we will continue on to Orlais or not. We will need to take a boat from Kirkwall anyway, so it will not be much of a detour if I change my mind."

Anders nodded in agreement. "That sounds reasonable enough."

"And we could have reached that conclusion much sooner too," Fenris said flatly. Yes, it was childish, but he was blaming the whole spat on Anders.

Anders glared at Fenris once more, but he didn't start up the argument again. Perhaps he was more cautious, since Justice had already tried to take over? That had to be it. At least Anders had enough sense not to provoke the spirit within him.

But he did have something to say, and he said it with a demanding voice, "How long until we leave, then?"

"Early, before the sun rises," Fenris answered, "I want to get at least a few hours between us and the templars."

\---

It was early indeed when they set out from the home. They didn't even have the scant light of the pre-dawn hours to guide their path yet, and since they could use no torch and the moon was nearly at its New phase, it was only years of living on that road that guided Fenris' feet. Garrett was still asleep, his little arms dangling over Fenris' shoulders as his cheek lay resting on his right shoulder. Fenris hadn't had the heart to wake him up, not after seeing how soundly he had slept. Carrying him one-armed while being careful not to bump him against the sword on his back was a challenge, and probably one that his body would protest later. But he didn't care at the moment, he just wanted to get moving.

Malcolm was next, walking just behind Fenris, and Anders (carrying their supplies) took up the rear. Those two could follow in Fenris' footsteps, sure in the fact that Fenris would not let them fall into any pits or potholes. They carefully made their way up the garden path to the road, stopping only momentarily to open the gate and squeeze out.

As Anders secured the gate behind them, Fenris took a moment to look over the farm once more. The darkness made it difficult to see the details, but time spent there meant that he could make sense of the dark shapes in front of him. Even if he had only lived there for four years, it felt like home to him. Garrett had been born there, they had made a life there. His children had spent years playing under the trees and in-between the rows of crops. His wife had grown her favorite flowers in the garden, and they had sparred in the open space behind the house. Even knowing that they had to go, it was hard to just walk away. Before then, Fenris had always thought that people who stayed behind in a time of crisis were fools that were too attached to material possessions. But in that moment, he finally understood: it wasn't the objects they were attached to, but the memories.

"Are you ready to go," Anders asked, breaking Fenris out of that memory. Fenris realized that he must have had quite a look on his face, because Anders was gazing at him with a worried look. If there was anything he didn't need at that moment, it was definitely the pity of a mage.

Trying to return to his usual blank look, Fenris turned and started walking. "Let's go," he said, but only after he had taken a few steps. He heard two sets of footsteps fall in line behind him: the light, quick footsteps of a small boy trying to keep up with two adults, and the slow, heavy ones of a man who was trying not to overtake said small boy. And that was how they went, walking along as the first bits of sunlight poked up over the horizon and chased them down their path. 

They would return home someday, Fenris said silently to himself. It was just a small trip, a bit of time away to be safe. This wasn't 'goodbye forever' to their home, they would be back.

And, hopefully, Hawke would be with them again when they returned.


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris would never, ever, EVER say it out loud, but he was actually pretty grateful to have Anders there. Not because he actually liked Anders' presence, of course: no, he tolerated it for the most part, and saved his scathing remarks for things that actually deserved a response from him. It was hard to be critical of a man- even one who deserved it as much as Anders did- when his children got along with him so well. Even the threat of puppy-dog eyes was enough to make Fenris hold his tongue.

No, what he was grateful for was how good Anders was at dealing with children. Fenris was a caring father, of course, and he would do anything for his children. But that didn't mean he was particularly good at the whole 'warm, friendly parent' thing. He tried, but sometimes his voice was just a touch too sharp, or his scoldings a bit too frequent. This was especially true now that they had to live on the road; there were only so many times Fenris could tolerate their fidgeting and fighting against sleep when they were supposed to be resting up for another long day of travel.

But Anders, he was a natural at it. He kept to the boundaries Fenris had set up, of course, but the boys were just drawn to him. During the day, it was Anders who they questioning unendingly about the things they saw as they traveled. In the evening, it was Anders they went to for bedtime stories. Fenris was definitely peeved to see how close they were getting to the damned mage, especially given that he was indirectly taking over duties that Fenris had done for years. He didn't try to stop it, because he didn't want to seem petty. But it did bother him, how quickly his boys were getting attached to another adult.

It was fine, he told himself silently for the thousandth time, they just liked him because he was the 'fun adult'. Fenris was the one who did all of the hard work. Fenris was the one who made sure they were safe. And when they were older, they would realize that Fenris was their _real_ father, the one who had their best intentions in mind. Anders would be a minor blip in their memory, here and gone before they knew it.

But still, as annoying as it was to see the boys so taken with Anders, Fenris did appreciate one part of it: with them so focused on Anders, it meant that Fenris could do the hard work of 'looking out for templars' and 'making sure they had enough food' without two small children hanging off of him constantly. He could deal with the irritation of Malcolm and Garrett practically hanging off of Anders if it meant that he could do his work in peace. Fenris had long given up on the thought of sending Anders away because of it.

Anders was also a big help when it came to hiding, as it turned out.

The first time they had to hide was about a week after they had started walking West. Though they were walking at an even pace, so as to not exhaust the boys, they were still on the run from templars. So when Fenris spotted a patrol of templars while scouting one day, he had decided that the best course of action was to hide in the forest until they had passed. With no alternate paths or roads for miles, it was 'hide' or 'walk by them and hope for the best.' Given Fenris' appearance, 'hide' had been the obvious answer.

But the boys, they just wouldn't be quiet. They didn't understand the danger they were all in. They were all settled deep in the woods, some hundred feet or so from the road, but the boys wouldn't stop giggling at each other! No amount of shushing on Fenris' part seemed to get the point across, and as the heavy footsteps and clanking of armor approached he grew more and more desperate.

It was Anders who saved that day. They were all laying down on their stomachs, covered by the leaves of the underbrush they were hiding in, so Fenris could barely see anything as Anders looked to the boys and quietly whispered, "Remember, this is 'hide-and-seek'. We have to keep extra-quiet, so they don't find us. Do you know why?"

Fenris couldn't see the exact movement, but he assumed his sons were shaking their heads. Anders spoke up again a moment later, saying, "Whoever finds us wins the game, and that's who we go home with. You don't want to go home with some stinky templars, right?"

The boys giggled again, but that time they quickly covered their mouths and silenced themselves. Then Malcolm quickly whispered back, "No, Mama's gotta find us first."

"Exactly," Anders replied approvingly, "So stay extra-quiet, and nobody will find us. Only speak up when your mother is here, got it?"

That managed to keep the boys as quiet as a mouse for over an hour, more than enough time for the templars to go marching by, not seeing the group hidden by their feet. Fenris waited a while after, though, just to be safe. He didn't call the 'all clear' until the only sound he heard was the birds chirping in the branches and the leaves rustling in the gentle summer breeze.

"How do you do that," Fenris had asked that night around their campfire.

Anders' answer was an honest-sounding one: "I was twelve when I was taken to the Circle. I was a bit of a late bloomer, many there were much younger than me. Some of them cried at night. Over the years I figured out that the best way to keep them calm was to turn everything into a game. Kids love games, and they love winning games even more. So long as you make 'winning' into the conditions you want in the first place, you can get a child to do just about anything you want. Within reason, of course."

Part of Fenris had wanted to turn that into some backhanded insult about mages brainwashing children via 'games' and turning them into blood mages and abominations. But another part of him actually appreciated that insight, and it was enough to keep his tongue still.

\---

The next surprise had been a few days later, and was actually caused by something Malcolm did.

They had stopped for a short rest near a creek, and Fenris had given the boys permission to play in the water so long as they took off their shoes and rolled up their pant legs first. The water barely covered their feet, so as long as they stayed within eyesight Fenris wasn't particularly worried about them. Letting them catch minnows and crayfish for a bit would give them something fun to do too, while Fenris and Anders planned their next movements.

Fenris had the map spread out between him and Anders, held down by a few loose stones they had managed to find. He was inspecting it carefully, trying to gauge just how far they had traveled. "We shouldn't be far from Starkhaven," he said, pointing to a bend in the river on the map, "I remember passing something like this the day before. We will need to find a place to cross the river soon."

"Are you certain you wish to stop there," Anders asked him carefully, "Sebastian knows who we are, and after everything that's happened I doubt he will be happy to see us."

"He would be slightly less happy to see you, I think," Fenris said in response, "But we have no choice. We've been on the road for nearly two weeks now, and the boys grow restless. They need to sleep in a real bed, and both Kirkwall and Tantervale are much farther away. Short of stopping at an inn somewhere in one of these small towns, we have no choice."

"And there would be no work in a small town to replenish our coin," Anders said with a sigh, "I get it. We really do need to go there."

Fenris wasn't thrilled about it either, but desperate times and all. At least he had given up on the thought of asking Sebastian for help. Even if he offered up Anders for his own safety, he was sure Sebastian would demand Malcolm's blood as well. That was a sacrifice Fenris refused to make.

"If we stay to the poorer districts then he won't notice us," Fenris said finally, rolling up the map, "And we won't stay for long. Just long enough to rest and replenish our supplies."

Anders nodded in agreement. Not that he could do much else, what with the rules Fenris had put in place, but for some reason he seemed much more complacent as of late. As if he was actually accepting Fenris' decisions, rather than begrudgingly putting up with them for the sake of the boys. Maybe he had decided to be less of an ass? Fenris hadn't thought such a thing was possible.

Or maybe his impending death had mellowed him out a bit. That seemed a lot more likely, if a bit uncomfortable to think about.

"Dad! Papa! Look!"

Both Fenris and Anders looked up, and saw Malcolm running over with something wet and wriggly in his hands. Fenris immediately made a disgusted face, but Anders smiled warmly, and even held out a hand to take the gross present. "What is it, hmm?"

"It's a salamander," Malcolm said excitedly as he handed it over to Anders, using both of his small hands to place it into Anders' much larger one. For his part, Anders didn't even flinch as the sudden contact. 

"Well look at that! It certainly is," Anders said approvingly, "Where did you find it?"

"Over there in the water," Malcolm said, pointing back to the creek he had just come from. Garrett was still over there, splashing around with his feet and laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Anders returned the salamander to Malcolm's hands, and then he said, "Well then, you should take him back to his home, yes? And then grab your brother too, we need to dry off and get going."

"Okay," Malcolm answered, and he hurried back off to the river to do as he was told.

Fenris just stared at Malcolm for a moment, unsure of what to even say to all of that. By the time he found his words, he was looking at Anders accusingly. "Did he just call you 'Papa'?"

Anders held up his hands in a mock-defense. "I didn't tell him to call me that," he said simply.

Admittedly, that was the first time Fenris had heard the word used, so maybe Malcolm had just decided to use it on his own. He definitely was a fickle child like that. But Fenris still didn't like it one bit. The boys were getting too attached to Anders in such a short amount of time. Anders was too much of a liability to keep with him, and he had planned on kicking him out once they reached Kirkwall, as he was definitely staying there and not traveling anymore after that if he didn't have to. But what if the boys grew to like him too much, and they fought back against that? The longer this went on, the harder it was going to be.

When they finally set out once more, Fenris had a thoughtful frown on his face. There were too many problems, too many unknowns to deal with. His plans weren't working out at all.

\---

That evening, everyone was working on various tasks. Fenris had Malcolm in his lap while Malcolm held onto the one book they had brought for reading practice. Anders was nearby prepping dinner, and Garrett had starting building something out of some sticks and rocks he had gathered earlier while everyone else tracked down firewood for the night. There had been no sign of people nearby, so it promised to be a quiet night at the very least. Quiet enough that Fenris felt comfortable addressing a certain subject.

"Malcolm?"

The young boy in his lap stopped reading and looked up at Fenris with wide, curious eyes. "Yeah?"

"Why did you call Anders 'Papa' today?" It was short and to the point, but Fenris was taking care to use his gentle voice, the one he always used when he was trying to soothe the boys.

Fenris heard Anders stop peeling potatoes for a moment, but he did not look at the man, and soon enough the sounds of peeling and cutting started up again.

"Because he's Papa," Malcolm said simply.

"How do you know that," Fenris asked. It was true, but he hadn't said anything about it, nor had he heard Anders mention anything about it.

"I remembered," Malcolm said earnestly, smiling up at Fenris as if this was something happy to talk about, "A long, long time ago, back when we lived in the big stone city with all the boats."

"You remember that long ago?" How old had Malcolm been then? Two at most?

Malcolm nodded. "Some stuff. I remember his stories. And his songs. We all went away on a boat and I forgot, but he came back and he sings and now I remember again."

That was…an extremely simplified description of what had happened, but it was an accurate one. Had Anders been singing to the boys? Fenris frowned for a second as he went through his memories of the last few weeks, trying to recall a time when he had heard Anders singing. Nothing came to mind, but he did remember Anders humming a few times, usually when cooking or doing some menial task. Maybe that was the 'singing' Malcolm remembered?

Fenris stole a glance over at Anders, curious to see how he was reacting to this. Thankfully Anders was looking down at the food he was preparing and didn't notice Fenris looking at him, but he did have a warm smile on his face. He was happy to hear all of that. He was happy to be remembered. Fenris couldn't find it in himself to be angry at Anders for that, either. He didn't like it, but he understood it. 

Maybe that's all they needed to cooperate with each other: a little bit of understanding.

 _'As if I would ever take the time to understand a mage's thought process,'_ Fenris scoffed to himself silently. Nevermind that Hawke was a mage too, and Fenris took plenty of time to understand her.

"Dad?"

Snapped out of his thoughts by a sudden tugging on his arm, Fenris looked back down at Malcolm. Concern filled the young boy's eyes, and he had a frown that could easily match Fenris'. "You're thinking too much again."

That drew a chuckle out of Fenris, and his expression turned into a much warmer one. "Am I now?"

"Yeah, you always look sad when you're thinking." Malcolm managed to wiggle around a bit and turn so that he was facing Fenris while still sitting in-between his legs, and he gave Fenris a hug. "Don't be sad, okay?"

Fenris hugged Malcolm in return, one of his hands moving up to cradle the back of Malcom's head. But doing that just gave Fenris a view of his hands and arms. His gauntlets had been removed for the evening, but he kept his armor on, and now he could see it clearly. Though his hands were being used to comfort his son, the armor was a reminder of what he would also be using those hands for. It was a reminder that he couldn't make any promises to his boys, not now. Not when the future was so uncertain.

"I'll try," he said instead. He took one last quick glance in Anders' direction, and he saw that the man had stopped with the cutting and was giving Fenris a sad frown. Not wanting to linger on that, Fenris instead closed his eyes and leaned down to give Malcolm a kiss on the forehead before saying again, "I'll try."

Maybe if life stopped throwing him unpleasant surprises, then he wouldn't have to think about them so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it seems to jump around a bit, as far as Fenris and Anders getting along goes. I figured it would seem more natural, if there were both good moments and bad. As the story goes on, there will be more and more of the good moments, which is how they'll end up becoming friends.


	6. Chapter 6

Varric had once called Starkhaven 'pretentious,' and Fenris found himself quickly agreeing with that assessment. Everything was just so extravagant, so overdone. This was a city built on wealth and trading, and it showed. Even the poorer parts of town were reasonably-maintained, though constructed of lower-quality materials. It was just so…clean. Definitely cleaner than Lowtown had ever been.

It reminded him of the extravagance of the Magister homes in Minrathous, if he thought about it. The designs were obviously different, having different architecture and all, but the air of costliness was similar. It made Fenris' stomach turn just thinking of how much exploited labor was used to build it all.

Another problem he had with the city in general was the sheer number of templars there. Both he and Anders had needed to procure cloaks to help conceal their identities because of it. Anders because he was a wanted criminal, and Fenris because the rumors of his being an apostate had traveled much faster than he had. It was a consequence of travelling with children- they couldn't move as fast as soldiers could, and they required more rest- but there wasn't much he could do about that.

Sticking to the poor district proved to be a good choice, though. Nobody asked too many questions there, and there were fewer templars too. They still had to be careful, but they had some breathing room at least.

It was quickly decided that Anders would stay at their rented room with the boys while Fenris did the main part of the work. While Fenris was more easily recognizable, he was at least skilled at disappearing down a dark alley if need be. Anders was about as subtle as a warhorn, and would have been arrested within a couple days. Plus giving him time with Malcolm (and Garrett too technically) seemed to keep him calm and less prone to outbursts of anger, which was definitely a good thing. Fenris had been wary the first couple of days, and he had found many excuses for going back to their rented room and checking in on them, but as time passed and nothing bad happened he began to relax a little. He wouldn't say that he trusted Anders, but at that point Anders was preferable to any stranger. At the very least, if Malcolm slipped up and mentioned magic, Anders wouldn't turn him over to the templars.

Fenris was able to find plenty of work within Starkhaven. Lots of people needed brute force, either in the form of a bodyguard for the day or as manual labor for some task. Fenris avoided any jobs that took him out of the city, but he kept busy, and within a week he had obtained more than enough money for the next part of their journey.

He didn't demand that they set out right away, though. The boys, they seemed to like being in the city. There were plenty of children to play with, plenty of adventures to have. They were kept close, of course, and always under the watchful eye of either Fenris or Anders, but they had their fun. The thought of taking them back on the road so soon made Fenris feel guilty, so he didn't bring it up.

A week turned into two, then three, then four, and soon they were well into the hottest part of summer. Their room was, thankfully, cool at night, but the heat of the day became unbearable at times. And since Fenris usually slept for at least part of the day, what with most of his odd jobs being available in the afternoons and evenings, it made it harder to get any rest.

It wouldn't be any better on the road, Fenris told himself. He just had to tough it out. He had gotten used to his clay-and-log house that he and Hawke had moved into four years ago; four years of experience had taught him that it stayed cool in the summer and warm in the winter, making it the perfect place to live in. He tried not to dwell on it too much, but he did miss that house. He couldn't wait for the day they all could return home again.

\---

They had just passed the month-mark of their time in Starkhaven when Fenris found out that Anders had been using his magic within the city.

He had found out completely by accident, actually. With Fenris usually gone in the afternoons, Anders had taken to bringing the boys down to the waterfront on particularly hot days to cool off for a bit. On one particularly hot afternoon, Fenris was busy running an errand for some nobleman (he wasn't a delivery boy, he had insisted, but somehow he had ended up taking a letter to a merchant anyway), and on his way back he happened to walk by the same area where Fenris and the boys were relaxing. But while they were relaxing, another young boy fell into the waterway, sinking to the bottom almost instantly.

Fenris started running in that direction, his fatherly instincts taking over even though the child was not one of his own. But before he could even get close, Anders had stripped off his cloak and jumped in, swimming after the boy that had fallen in. By the time Fenris reached the small group of people, stopping near his own boys (who in turn immediately clung to their father's legs), Anders was dragging the unconscious boy out of the water, laying him out on the granite pathway nearby.

Anders leaned in and listened for a moment, checking to see if the boy was breathing. Then, without any hesitation, he held a hand over the boy's chest and murmured a few words. There was a slight glow, and soon the boy was coughing up any water that had entered his body.

The boy's family was grateful, of course. The mother hugged her son, and then Anders, and couldn't stop thanking him. But Fenris, he was seeing red. Yes, it was good that the boy was alive, but Anders had just used magic. Right there, in the street, where anyone could have seen it. Based on the crowd, a dozen or two people _had_ seen it. Nobody was running off to get any templars, but it was still a risk. Now a couple dozen people could point Anders out as an apostate. And since Sebastian, the ruler of Starkhaven, would be able to recognize Anders on sight, that was too much of a risk.

As soon as the crowd had turned their attention away from Anders, Fenris stepped over and grabbed Anders' shoulder roughly. In return Anders grabbed Fenris' wrist, and he looked ready to punch him, but that instinct died out as soon as Anders saw who had grabbed him. If Fenris hadn't been so angry right then, he might have felt bad for spooking Anders in such a way. Maybe.

Fenris didn't even give Anders time to say anything. "We're going. Now."

He didn't let go of Anders until it was clear that Anders was following after him. He walked slowly enough that the boys could keep up, though they kept their distance from the two adults. They could tell when their dad was mad, and they were smart to not get involved in a fight between adults.

When they reached the building containing their rented room, Fenris told the boys to run upstairs and go play inside for a bit. It probably would have been wiser to let the boys stay outside and to take the fight inside, but Fenris didn't want to risk the boys getting snatched up while Fenris was too busy yelling to notice. He would risk someone overhearing their argument instead.

Pushing Anders back into the alley behind the building, and ending with one rough shove that forced Anders against a wall, Fenris said, "Do you want to get us all arrested? Because that's our future, if you keep pulling stunts like that."

Thankfully Anders didn't even try to play dumb. He didn't look guilty either, instead choosing to frown and square up a bit, trying to look more imposing than Fenris did. But he wasn't one to deny his actions if he felt those actions were just, which he clearly did. "What would you have me do, let the boy drown?"

"I would have you not use _magic_ to save him, no," Fenris said, practically spitting out the word 'magic'.

"Then he would have drowned! He wasn't breathing when I pulled him out of the water!"

"You should have found another way then, one that did not involve magic. There's templars everywhere, and you never know who is loyal to them." Fenris held up a single finger. "One person. That's all it takes for this to crumble underneath us. One person, and the boys are off to the Chantry to be raised and we're in prison, or worse."

"I'm not going to abandon someone in need just because they happen to need healing," Anders retorted stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of him, "What if it had been Malcolm who had fallen in, or even Garrett? Would you have wanted me to just let them die?"

Fenris snarled at Anders as his hand shot forward, grabbing Ander's shoulder and slamming him back against the wall again. He held on tightly, the claws of his gauntlet digging into the fabric and flesh they hung onto, which drew a hiss of pain out of Anders. "You do not get to use the boys against me like that," he said, his voice low and practically dripping with anger, "If you _ever_ do that again, you are gone. You won't have to worry about that spirit in you taking you over, because you will be dead before your body hits the ground. Do I make myself clear?"

There was no fear in Anders' eyes. All that Fenris found was the same hate and loathing they had possessed years ago, back in the final months before the explosion at the Chantry. He gave a short nod, though he said no words, and Fenris took that as the closest to an answer he would get.

"Good," Fenris said, and he let go of Anders, who immediately reached up and rubbed at his shoulders. Anders' fingers came back with traces of blood on them, and that earned Fenris another glare, but no verbal comments were made.

Not even waiting for any further conversation, Fenris turned and walked away, heading to the door to the building they were staying in. There was no way Fenris would be leaving the boys alone with Anders that night. Any work would have to wait until the next day.

It wasn't until hours later, when he was curled up in bed with the boys and staring over at the empty bed that normally would have been filled with Anders' sleeping form, that Fenris felt a pang of regret. They had been actually getting along, at least for a little while. It wasn't a friendship by any means, but it had been tolerable. And now, as Garrett snoozed softly against his chest and Malcolm fussed at the blankets in his sleep, Fenris couldn't help but wonder if he had ruined all of the progress they had made.

He should probably apologize, he thought. Not for his words, he definitely didn't regret those, but he had been too rough. Anders, for all of his faults, did have his heart in the right place today. Saving a boy's life was definitely a preferable use of his magic, one that Fenris could understand now that the anger of the day had left him.

'When Anders returns, I'll say something to him,' Fenris said silently to himself, 'If he will hear me.'

\---

But Anders didn't return that night, nor did he come back the next day. Fenris waited, not wanting to leave the boys alone for any amount of time, but as the hours passed and no sign of Anders turned up, Fenris began to worry. The boys worried too, and even Garrett managed a confused, "Where Papa?"

Eventually Fenris couldn't sit still any longer. Taking Malcolm aside and crouching down in front of him, he said, "I need to go find Anders. Can you be a big boy and watch your brother for a while?"

Malcolm nodded solemnly. Fenris knew that he was worried too, but he was proud of his son for being so brave. He gave him a quick kiss on the forehead before he said, "I will be back before the morning. If you two get tired, go ahead and sleep, alright?"

"Okay Dad," Malcolm said, and with that Fenris stood up, pulled his cloak hood over his head, and left.

\---

Surprisingly, it didn't take too long to figure out what had happened to Anders. Fenris knew the man had to be in trouble, he wouldn't just disappear without a word otherwise, even after a fight. So Fenris risked the attention of the templars and went to the part of the city where the keep was, hoping to turn up some clues as to where Anders had gone off to.

While he was searching, he came across a group of templars preparing some kind of stage in an open area. That was never a good sign. He moved closer, taking care to stay to the long shadows of the early evening, where the last bits of sunlight were blocked out by columns or the sides of buildings. As he moved closer, he was able to overhear a conversation between two of the templars.

"I still don't get why he wants all of this done. I say just kill the abomination and be done with it."

"It's not about the apostate, it's about justice. You heard the story of the Kirkwall Chantry, right?"

"Yeah, who hasn't?"

"Well this is the man who destroyed it."

"Oh. Well shit."

"Exactly. It was foolish of him to even come to Starkhaven, but now that we've got him captured, there's no way the prince isn't going to make an example of him. He was there, you know. He saw exactly what this apostate did."

The other guard let out a low whistle. "No wonder he called for the stage. He's going to execute the mage himself, isn't he?"

"That's what I heard. First thing in the morning, with everyone there to watch."

"And he's not worried about the mage using his powers to escape?"

"Where would he escape to? There's over a hundred templars in this part of the city alone. Even more are going to be here tomorrow. Even if he did break free, he wouldn't get far."

"Point taken."

Fenris slipped away after that, not bothering to listen to the inane chatter those two templars descended to. He couldn't hear much of anything anyway, the pounding in his head drowned out the noise of the city.

Anders had been captured.

He was going to be executed tomorrow.

And it was all Fenris' fault.

Sure, Anders may have run off on his own, and his own stupidity had probably led to his capture. But would Anders have even run off if Fenris hadn't threatened him? Would Anders even be in the city if Fenris hadn't insisted on stopping there, and then on delaying their leave? No, Anders' involvement in his capture was only the end result of a long chain of events, events that had been put in motion because of Fenris. So Fenris was the guilty party here, and that guilt threatened to crush him. Even if he hated Anders, even if he was mad at him for what had happened the day before, he couldn't just walk away. The thought didn't even cross his mind. Instead, he immediately accepted the fact that he would have to rescue Anders and drag him and the boys out of the city before the sun rose.

It was going to be a long, long night, and Fenris wasn't even sure if they would survive it. But he had to try. This was all his fault, and he had to make it right.


	7. Chapter 7

Fenris waited until night fell to start his plan. He knew it was going to be difficult regardless of the time of day, but his thought was that more people would be drinking or sleeping once the sun was down. That would make for fewer obstacles, should things go south. Which they probably would, Fenris silently grumbled to himself, things _always_ went south whenever this damn mage was involved. He would have been angry at Anders for once again causing problems if he weren't so worried about the stupid man actually dying.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was actually worried about Anders, too. He had spent so long hating the man that 'worry' and 'Anders' felt unnatural together.

Fenris held off on using his lyrium markings for the moment. While being able to phase through the walls would be helpful, the bright blue-white glow would attract unwanted attention. Instead, he snuck around in the shadows, staying close to the sides of buildings as he moved towards the keep itself. It was quite large, containing enough space for over a hundred templars to live in comfortably. If Fenris had to guess, Anders was being held in there somewhere. It would be the safest place to put him, after all.

Getting inside the keep was surprisingly easy, given how many templars were staying there that night. Though the keep had a large capacity, the spaces available were being pushed to their very limits. There was no doubt in Fenris' mind that hotbunking was going on, a necessary practice with so many templars present. Fenris did not envy them, but he also did not take any time to think about their troubles. He had his own trouble to focus on.

He slipped in the main gate, using a passing cart to his advantage. Then he immediately ducked into the shadows created by one of the large keep walls, hugging said wall as he moved around towards an entryway to the inside of the keep itself. There were many templars around, but most were drinking, so as long as Fenris stayed quiet he was sure he would go unnoticed. Nobody wanted to do extra work once their shift was up.

Getting inside the main building itself proved to be slightly more difficult. There were three doors, a large one at the very center of the building, and two smaller ones off to either side, near the corners where building met wall. The center door was full of traffic, with templars streaming in and then wandering back out with a plate of food and a stiff drink in their hands. Fenris opted for one of the side doors, slipping in quickly and pulling it shut behind himself. It wasn't locked, so he would be able to go out again that way.

The door he went through actually connected him to a main hallway of sorts. The building must have continued onwards to either side, stretching beyond the bounds of the wall he had seen before. The part of the hall he ended up in seemed to be a storage area, each room full of boxes of gear and provisions. Nobody would be seeing to any of that for a bit, Fenris reasoned. Once they were done eating, they would no doubt be turning in for the night. That part of the building would be relatively safe and quiet for the night.

But Fenris couldn't just sit there and wait all night. He had to find where the prisoners were kept. He pushed further down the hall, moving towards the main indoor area of the keep, staying to the shadows as he moved. He didn't make it far, though, as the sounds coming from the main hall were more than enough to tell him just how occupied it was. He had been lucky so far, but he wasn't going to press that luck too much.

Fenris turned around, deciding to try and sneak back out. It would be hours before the majority of the templars slept, so that time would be better-used preparing the boys to flee from the city. As soon as Fenris managed to get Anders out of there, they would all have to run anyway. Might as well have everything ready to go, rather than hurry to pack with the templars breathing down their neck. 

That wouldn't be possible, though. As soon as Fenris got back to the door that led outside, he could hear a rather loud conversation on the other side of it. During his time investigating that hall of the keep, some templars had moved to block his exit. Damn. So much for making the most of the next few hours.

Sighing, Fenris slipped into one of the 'safe' rooms. Hiding behind a stack of boxes, he decided to get a short burst of sleep, so that he would be able to travel more that night. They would need to run for as long as possible, and getting even a little bit of rest (well, as much as he could that deep into enemy territory) would only help with that.

\---

Some time later, Fenris woke to the sounds of a quiet night. He listened at the door carefully, trying to judge if enough templars had fallen asleep or not. It was certainly quieter than during the party before, but was it enough to indicate that only a few night guards were awake? Fenris hoped so. With much fewer templars about, he would have an easier time of sneaking to the prisoner area.

There was no basement to the keep, surprisingly enough. No, the cells were actually kept in the far back, hidden behind a couple large, sturdy doors. Doors that had been locked, but that Fenris had easily taken care of with the help of his powers. Thankfully the doors to the cells were hidden away from plain view in such a way that the glow of his markings was not readily noticeable to others in the keep. And the locks, while sturdy, were no match for a deft hand that could reach in and disable the locking mechanism. 

There were five cells in the keep, each one dark at that late hour. A single torch in the area outside of the individual cells was the only light source in the room, and Fenris had to squint a bit to see who was in the cells. Two cells were empty, and a third contained the remains of someone who had died a long time ago. Fenris didn't even take time to pity that lost soul, as he had to contend with the two cells carrying live captives.

One cell, the second in the row of five, contained a man who looked to be in his 50s or so. He looked disheveled and dirty, like he had been there for some weeks now. Hunger was beginning to set in too, and his eyes looked wild. He simply watched Fenris silently as Fenris strode past, checking the other cells.

The last cell in the row of five contained Anders, who was sitting on the ground with his forehead resting on the back of one of his hands, which was in turn propped up by his knee. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was too quick for him to be asleep. Plus he snored, Fenris had found out in their time traveling together, and there was no snoring going on at that moment. So Fenris stepped up to the cage and tapped lightly on one of the metal poles with the back of his gauntlet, making just enough noise to hopefully draw Anders' attention.

It worked, and Anders looked up suddenly. At first his eyes were narrowed into a glare, but as soon as he saw who it was he went wide with shock. "Fenris," he asked, almost as if he couldn't believe who he was seeing.

"Indeed," Fenris said, and he crossed his arms and leveled a stern look at Anders before speaking again, "When I threatened you earlier, that wasn't a cue to go running into the arms of the templars."

That comment got a snort out of Anders, which was frankly more than Fenris had been expecting, given the circumstances. "I didn't go running into their arms, you know. I was pacing, to try and get my anger under control, and a resident thought I looked suspicious. And then the templars who responded to the complaint recognized me."

Fenris made an interested noise. "Is that so? I would have expected you to be able to face down a few templars."

"A few, maybe, but not twenty. Even I had to give up at those numbers." Anders tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow.

"Some of us would have gone down fighting," Fenris said irritably as he inspected the lock. It was a solid-looking one, and it would take a bit of work to get it unlocked without a key. Fortunately he didn't need to use lock picks to do that.

Anders made a noise at the comment, but he otherwise remained silent for long enough that Fenris began to wonder if he had fallen asleep. But before he could ask, Anders spoke again, that time using a quieter, more humble voice. "I didn't think you would come here. It still feels like it's too good to be true. It would be better for you, if I died here."

For a moment, a very quick moment, Fenris felt a sharp pain in his chest. It actually made him stop for a moment, his hands stilling as he considered Anders' words. But a moment later that feeling had passed, and Fenris wasn't even going to waste time trying to assign an emotion to that pain. There was too much to do. Still, he managed to find it in himself to say, "Better for _me_ , maybe. But not better for the boys, and they're the ones that matter here."

"…right," Anders said, and he fell silent once more. 

Fenris preferred it that way, it gave him some peace and quiet to work at figuring out the lock. Once he did, he made his hand go intangible, reached into the lock itself, and moved around the bits that needed to be moved. Then he pulled his hand out entirely, and the lock fell open.

As soon as the door was open, Anders stood. In a few quick strides he crossed the cell, and Fenris actually took a half-step back, bracing himself for a punch, or even a spell. But instead of either of those, he found himself being pulled into a tight hug. "Thank you," Anders said, his previously-calm voice now cracking with the emotion brimming in it, "I know it's what I deserve, but I- I just couldn't-"

Fenris stood there awkwardly, letting Anders hug him. He had never been that good with emotional stuff; the closest to 'supportive' he had ever gotten was when he had taken care of Hawke in her last month of pregnancy with Garrett, and even that had largely consisted of 'take care of everything for her, so she didn't have to waste energy on menial tasks'. Even emotional comfort had been uncommon, mostly limited to 'holding each other in bed to chase away nightmares' and 'doing other activities in bed to chase away nightmares'. Neither of which Fenris particularly wanted to do with Anders.

Still, he managed to reach up with a hand and awkwardly pat Anders on the shoulder. A monumental achievement, given how previous interactions with Anders had required a large amount of personal restraint to keep from gutting him alive.

"We need to leave," Fenris said finally, and it seemed to get through to Anders, who let go immediately and stepped away. For his part, he did manage to look embarrassed at the sudden physical display.

From the other occupied cell, a voice weakly called out, "So are you gonna let me out too?"

Fenris glanced to Anders, as if to ask if it was worth the effort. Anders in turn nodded, probably a result of his need to do justice. Given that Anders was actively fighting against Justice at times, it probably would have been better to do this small act, if only to satisfy the demon that shared Anders' body. Sighing, Fenris stepped forward and began to unlock the other cell.

\---

Getting out had been a lot easier than getting in. The courtyard of the keep was littered with garbage from the earlier festivities, and they had to step carefully to avoid making any sounds. Thankfully they managed to get out without alerting any patrols, but Fenris knew that it was only a momentary reprieve. As soon as someone thought to check the sells, the alarms would be sounded, and leaving would be impossible. The city would be locked up tighter than the cells had been.

So they wasted little time in packing, only grabbing the essentials from their rented room. Fenris lamented the fact that they were fleeing from a home for the second time in as many months, but he knew there was not much they could do. Both he and Anders were wanted men, and they had to stay on the move. Staying in the city for a month had been their mistake. They should have moved on sooner.

And for the second time, four boys set out early in the morning, though this time they headed to the southern gate out of the city. When stopped by the guards, Fenris had provided a quick lie: that they needed to get to Kirkwall, and leaving early would let them get there sooner. This seemed to be enough for the guard, and he nodded and let them pass.

They headed due south, out of the city and down the road to Kirkwall. Within an hour of leaving, they heard the sirens sound within the city, the signal to wall up the gates and to not let anyone through.

"So much for leaving quietly," Fenris muttered under his breath, shifting Garrett's sleeping body in his arms. 

Anders shot Fenris a regretful look, but he didn't say anything. He also didn't say anything when Fenris took them off the path, turning west instead of staying heading south. He waited until they were tromping through the forests nearby to finally comment on what he was doing: "The templars are going to ask the guards about who left the city. The story about us going to Kirkwall will end up in Sebastian's ears before noon."

"Interesting," Anders said, "And I assume that is why we are headed west now, instead of south. But why not lie about our destination, if you were planning to trick them in the first place?"

"Sebastian hates you, and he hates that Hawke let you live. Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall. Ergo, in his mind, that is exactly where we would run to hide." And it had actually been there plan, up until Anders had gotten captured by the templars. "He would assume that is our destination even without 'help' from a guard. So if we let him think what he already wants to think, then we have more time to get somewhere else."

Anders nodded in agreement and said, "Tantervale, then?"

"Right. As much as I dislike being so close to Tevinter, it's our best option right now. We can't go back east, and we can't go south." He glanced over at Anders, giving him somewhat of an icy look as he added, "It will be the end of summer by the time we arrive there. We need to be prepared to stay there through the winter at the very least. Don't blow our cover again."

Anders frowned, but at least he had enough sense to look away instead of arguing. Which was fine by Fenris, it gave him time to think as they walked. If they were close to the border with Tevinter, then the slavers would be more common. Fenris could probably take up his mercenary work again, making extra coin by protecting people from marauding slavers. Similarly, Anders might be able to provide comfort and caring to those that were rescued from the slave caravans. Even without his magic, he was a calming presence and did well with his patients. Hopefully between the two of them they would be able to make enough money to survive on while keeping the boys safe.

And, hopefully, they wouldn't have to leave Tantervale in the middle of the night. Fenris was getting tired of those ill-timed escapes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the vague escape, keeping things limited to Fenris' point-of-view meant missing out on a lot of the action. It will definitely be revisited at a later time, as this is going to come back to bite them in the butt, so until then you'll have to wonder exactly what happened when shit hit the fan.


	8. Chapter 8

The hard part about traveling in the middle of the summer heat was the way that the air practically clung to a person's body. There was just so much water everywhere- large lakes, the great flowing rivers, and the seas to the south and east- that it made everything feel wet and gross. On the particularly bad days, Fenris could have sworn that it felt like he was breathing water vapor. It was annoying at best, and rarely did he ever consider the hot, sicky summers to be the 'best'.

He didn't even have Hawke there to help. At least with her there, she would have been ready to help him with a suggestive eyebrow-wiggle and a few words about how they were already sweaty and gross so they might as well have some fun too. It wouldn't have helped with the temperature, but it would have taken his mind off of it for an hour or two. Or three, if it was early enough in the day and the boys were otherwise distracted and out of the way.

Fenris quickly chased that thought away, though. He currently didn't have the privacy to go thinking about anything that would get him even more hot and bothered than he already was.

Instead he turned his focus back to his boys, who were currently walking very slowly and whining every step of the way. Or, rather, Malcolm was whining and Garrett was echoing his older brother's whines.

"Daaaad, it's hooooot!"

"Hoooot!"

"It's too hot and we've been walking forever!"

"Foreverrrr!"

"It's too much walking, my legs are gonna break!"

"Gonna breaaaak!"

"Daaaad, he's copying me!"

"Copy meeee!"

Ah. Yes.

That was why he had stopped listening to them in the first place.

"Don't you start too," Fenris said flatly as he saw Anders bite down on his bottom lip to keep from snickering. The nerve of that mage, being amused by something so unbelievably annoying. AND he was wearing the heaviest clothing out of all of them! How could he handle it all?

"Sorry," Anders said, but he did not sound sorry at all, "Maybe we should take a rest? Before their-" he had to stop for a moment there, to hold back another snicker. "-before their legs break. Because that is quite serious, legs breaking."

Fenris made a disgusted noise, but he relented. "Fine, fine! We'll rest for a moment. A _short_ moment."

But the question was, where? They were out on the open road, with no real shade in sight for miles. Any trees nearby were nowhere near enough shade for all four of them to sit under. At least one of them would end up having to sit out baking in the sunlight.

As he considered their next move, Fenris went to get a drink from his waterskin, only to find that it was almost empty. He checked the other two he carried, only to find that they were empty as well. Fenris' eyebrows scrunched together in concentration as he considered this. They would need to stop by the river soon to refill them. At least that water would be cold, and they could all drink a lot from the river itself before they left again.

…cold water…

Fenris grinned suddenly. "This way, I know where we can take our break."

\---

The road they travelled on was reasonably close to the river, close enough that it was not an arduous task to walk from one to the other. And while there were few trees to shade them, there was actually a short waterfall there and a large number of rocks and boulders strewn about. Thanks to that, as well as the generally hilly structure of that area of the Free Marches, they could swim in relative privacy.

Fenris stripped first, and he left the boys on land with Anders as he checked the waters around the waterfall. The waterfall itself wasn't that tall, maybe ten feet or so? It was more of a short drop than a real waterfall. Fenris could have climbed to the top easily, if he had tried. The waters themselves were not that deep either, coming up to waist-deep at the deepest parts, in the middle of the river and right by the waterfall itself. The boys would need to be watched closely, in case they slipped off of the shallower parts, but it should be alright, he reasoned. The current wasn't strong enough to whisk them downstream.

Looking back to the trio on the riverbed, Fenris called out, "Alright, it's safe, you can come in."

Malcolm was the first one in, practically leaping out of his clothes and into the cold water. Fenris quickly moved to assist him, but he quickly found that help wasn't necessary. Malcolm was treading water just fine, and he was moving to a shallower part where he could stand up anyway.

Garrett, however, did not seem so sure of the water. He stood on the edge of the river, watching his father and brother, but making no move to join them in the water. Even when Anders asked him if he needed help getting in, Garrett shook his head silently. He was nervous, Fenris could see that as plain as day. Which made sense, he rarely ever went into waters deeper than his ankles. He would need a bit more attention before he could have fun in the water.

"Here," Fenris said to Anders as he climbed out of the river, "You co watch Malcolm, I'll help him."

Anders nodded in response, and soon it was just Fenris and Garrett on the riverbank. Fenris kneeled down next to Garrett, so he could look his small son in the eyes, and he said, "Are you frightened?" His voice was soothing, with no accusation or frustration present. Garrett got frightened easily, and Fenris knew it would take patience to convince him to try something new.

After a moment, Garrett nodded. 

Smiling warmly, Fenris held out a hand to Garrett. "Come here, little one. I will hold your hand."

Garrett still didn't look convinced, but he stepped over to Fenris and took his hand. Then Fenris stood up and, still holding Garrett's hand, stepped into the water. Garrett stopped himself at the water's edge, so Fenris stopped too and looked back. Garrett looked between the water and his father, clearly torn between 'going in' and 'staying on the shore'. Fenris did not push the issue, though, and after a moment Garrett finally stuck his toe in, feeling the water with it.

And almost immediately he pulled it back out. "Cold! Too cold, Da!"

That earned an amused chuckle from Fenris. "Yes, little one, it is cold. But it will make you feel better."

That suspicious look was back on Garrett's face, but Fenris spoke again, saying, "Your brother went in. You don't want him to be braver than you, do you?"

And there it was: the never-ending challenge that always got his boys to act. Scowling, Garrett jumped right in, and he ended up almost dropping to the bottom. Thankfully Fenris had a tight hold on the boy's hand, so he couldn't slip completely under. He just held on as Garrett struggled to right himself and stay standing. Even in the shallow area, the water was still deep to a three-year-old. After sputtering for a second, Garrett started to make his 'this is a very distressing situation and I want you to fix it Right Now' whine as he reached out for Fenris. In turn, Fenris actually laughed as he reached down and picked up the fussy child, balancing him on his hip. This stopped the whining, but it made Garrett cling to Fenris as if his life depended on it.

"Such a fussy child," Fenris said, though he definitely wasn't complaining. Garrett was only three, he had every right to be fussy.

Finally Fenris strode out into the river, watching as Anders tossed a screaming and laughing Malcolm into the waters. They must have been doing that for a while, Fenris realized, as both of them were soaking wet and had fallen into a routine of sorts. Malcolm would swim over, Anders would pick him up, and then they would count to three before Malcolm was tossed once more. "Speaking of bravery," Fenris said, stopping near Anders.

"Let him have his fun, he's not hurting anyone," Anders said.

"I wasn't coming out here to stop you two," Fenris said simply.

By that point Malcolm had made it back once more, so Fenris watched as the boy and Anders went through the actions once more. And while he watched, Fenris found himself noticing things about Anders for the first time. His smile, specifically. Fenris was sure Anders had smiled before- as dark as his actions had been, he still had seemed like a generally agreeable person in most situations, so long as those situations didn't involve 'mages', 'templars', or 'Fenris'- but he couldn't recall seeing a smile before. Not one like this, one of pure joy and happiness. But he must have smiled before, right? Anders couldn't have been a perpetually-unhappy man. No, it had to be that Fenris just hadn't noticed it before.

Which begged the question: why did Fenris notice it now?

And why did it make him smile in return?

"What do you think, Fenris," Anders said suddenly, and Fenris quickly forced his face to go back to some form of 'resting bitchface' which Fenris was sure probably looked out-of-place during a fun activity like swimming. But Anders kept talking, saying, "Think Garrett is up for being dunked?"

Fenris glanced down to Garrett, who promptly hugged himself closely to Fenris' side as he gave Anders the biggest scowl he could muster. Which in turn made Anders laugh and say, "It looks like in inherited your mood. Maybe I should carry him for a while, I bet he would lighten up for me."

"Don't even think about it, mage," Fenris said, but the statement lacked the bite that his sentences to Anders usually did. Fenris wasn't sure what that meant, and he wasn't sure that he wanted to find out.


	9. Chapter 9

The further they got away from Starkhaven, the easier it was for Fenris to relax. It seemed as though his initial assessment had been correct: Sebastian had no doubt assumed that the group had been headed for Kirkwall, and he had sent the templars in that direction. They had not seen any templars on the road for over a week, and as more time passed it seemed as though the worst was gone.

Of course, Fenris would always be cautious, but he was a lot less snippy when he wasn't worried about templars breathing down their necks. He even managed to smile every now and then! It was a huge change for him, even if nobody else recognized it. 

But the peace was not meant to last. One day, as they continued their trek through the countryside to Tantervale, the group found their progress grinding to a halt. The reason? A particularly fussy toddler who wanted nothing to do with walking and was dragging his feet as he whined and whined. Interestingly enough, the prospect of being carried didn't help either. That just set him off further, and the whining quickly turned into actual crying. It was crying of the 'I'm bothered by something small and inconsequential but I am going to make it into a Big Deal because I am a literal baby and can't handle being uncomfortable' variety, Fenris picked up on that fact right away, but it didn't make the fussing any easier to deal with.

"Come on, little one, just tell me what is wrong," Fenris finally said, his frustration beginning to show. 

Of course, Garrett didn't answer with actual words. Instead he just tugged at his own jet-black hair while crying. An act that just made Fenris huff and try to adjust his grip so that he didn't end up dropping the squirming boy.

"Maybe he's just tired," Anders suggested, taking a moment to adjust the pack on his back while they were stopped.

It was an act that instantly annoyed Fenris even more. He had been growing slightly more tolerant of the mage and his presence, but dealing with a crying child made Fenris' temper even shorter than usual, and any patience and acceptance that the mage had earned was already done and gone. "He can't be tired, he slept through the whole night," Fenris said irritably as he tried rocking Garrett in place, an act that just made Garrett squirm even more.

Anders, clearly not detecting Fenris' irritability (or clearly not caring), continued to suggest solutions. "Hungry then, maybe? We could try lunch, even though it's a little early. Or perhaps he's hot again, it is starting to get to that time of day."

"Shut it, mage," was Fenris' only response.

"I'm just trying to help," Anders said indignantly.

"Well you're not," Fenris answered quickly, scowling at Anders, "So back off and let me handle this."

"And you're doing a _fine_ job of it-"

"I'm doing better than you would be!"

The arguing would have continued, but a familiar young voice chose that moment to speak up. "Dad!"

Fenris stopped mid-insult and looked down to Malcolm. He tried not to scowl at the boy, no son of his deserved a scornful look like that, but Maker help him it was hard to do. It was funny, how quickly a crying child could wear someone down. "What, Malcolm," Fenris asked, speaking a touch too harshly.

"It's his hair," Malcolm said, pointing to Garrett.

Fenris actually took a moment to look down at Garrett. Malcolm was right, Garrett was tugging and pushing at his hair, messing it up thoroughly as he continued to whine and fuss. It really was strange, that wasn't a normal behavior for him, usually when he cried he rubbed at his face instead of his hair. But what was wrong with it? It looked normal, albeit a bit sweaty. There couldn't be bugs in it, Fenris was careful to keep his sons clean. So what could it be?

Then Fenris finally noticed what Malcolm had seen right away: Garrett's hair was wet with sweat, and it was clinging to his forehead and neck. Not only that, but his hair was actually long enough to dangle down into his eyesight, which couldn't be good for the young boy. Could that be what was bothering Garrett? Was his hair bothering him?

"You need a haircut," Fenris said finally. 

\---

They ended up going to the riverbank again, if only so Fenris could wash Garrett after his haircut. As bad as sweaty hair was, he could only imagine how much worse the fussing would be if Garrett had loose hairs stuck in his shirt. He needed a haircut, and then a bath. And while he was at it, he could give Malcolm one too, and maybe even himself. It had been a few months, all of them had hair that was getting to be a touch too long.

Unfortunately, Garrett was three and didn't understand that Fenris was just trying to help him. Which meant that Anders had to help by holding Garrett in his arms, so that Fenris could cut at the hair without accidentally stabbing his son with the extremely sharp knife he was using. Fenris was pretty good at giving haircuts- he had done so for Danarius for years, and that job demanded perfection- but there was only so much he could do with a squirming child.

"There there," Anders said, rubbing Garrett's back with his hand in a soothing motion while Fenris moved to quickly trim Garrett's hair, "It's alright. It'll all be over soon, and you'll be all-smiles once more."

Amazingly, it did seem to soothe Garrett some. He was still upset, and the post-crying hiccups were a pain to work around, but at least he wasn't screaming anymore. And soon enough, Garrett's hair was cut back to the point of shortness where it wouldn't be getting in his face anymore. The poor boy looked a little funny with hair that short, but it would do for now. Next time Fenris would have actual scissors to work with, and he could give Garrett something much better.

While Anders bounced Garrett on his knee to try and calm the boy down further (which seemed to be succeeding, much to Fenris' annoyance), Fenris cleaned his knife with a bit of water. "How about you," he said, looking to Malcolm, "Yours is getting long as well."

Malcolm was quick to shake his head, though. "Nah, I wanna grow it long!"

Fenris snorted softly at that, and a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth as he said, "Suit yourself." He knew Malcolm all too well though, he would be begging for a haircut within the month. He liked it a bit longer than Fenris kept his own hair, but if it got too long then it just got in the way and Malcolm didn't like that.

Malcolm grinned up at Fenris as he said, "I'm gonna grow it out long, just like Papa."

Fighting the urge to give Malcolm a disapproving look, Fenris said, "I should hope not. Long hair is fine, but you deserve much more than the look of an unwashed apostate hobo."

"Hey," Anders said, and Fenris couldn't tell if the hurt in that word was faked for the sake of joking around or if it was real.

"I'm serious," Fenris said in response. He meant it too: Anders looked like he had just walked out of the woods after commuting with nature for the last four years. His hair was obscenely long compared to how it was in Kirkwall. It easily went to below his shoulders, if not further. And his face…well, that was just a disaster waiting to happen. His beard, if it could be called that, was patchy and betrayed the malnutrition he had lived with for many years. In short, it was atrocious and it absolutely had to go.

Holing up the knife once more, he said, "Set Garrett down and I'll take care of you too."

Anders snorted before saying, "Can I really trust you with a knife that close to my neck?"

"I managed to shave Danarius for years without slipping up. You'll be fine." And honestly, as annoyed and short-tempered as he was at the moment, he didn't really have it in him to just kill Anders like that. Maybe a few years ago, but not now. And especially not in front of the boys.

Anders didn't move at first, and he was clearly considering his options there. Fenris wouldn't have fought it if Anders said know, and he was sure Anders knew that too. With fussy children to take care of, starting fights over petty things was never a good use of energy. But Anders did finally relent, and he set the now-calm Garrett down on the ground before sitting up and removing his feathery overcoat. By the time the coat was off, both boys had run off to the field of long grass nearby, playing one of their many games while the adults dealt with boring things like haircuts. "Alright," Anders said, "Don't cut it as short as you did for the boy, though."

Anders had a lot more hair to work with, so that wasn't a problem. Fenris managed to get it to about the same length as before, back in Kirkwall, though the ends were slightly uneven. It was hard to get a straight edge without scissors, after all, but he was sure Anders wouldn't complain. It looked better than what Garrett had, at the very least.

Next Fenris moved around to the front, instructing Anders to tilt his head upwards slightly so that he could shave that patchwork beard off. He took much more time there, since he only had water to work with instead of oils or cream. But the end result was a clean-shaven Anders with no nicks or cuts on his face. Stepping back, Fenris nodded approvingly at his work. "Much better. That should take care of the 'filthy' part at least."

Anders reached up with a hand to rub at his face, feeling how smooth the skin was. Fenris watched as a small, pleased smile spread across Anders' face, a sight which made him raise an eyebrow questioningly. In response, Anders said, "It's nothing, I just…it's been a while, since I've had a bare face. It's not easy to shave without a mirror."

"So I have heard," Fenris said simply. He wouldn't know about that, as elves didn't get beards and body hair like humans did. He was grateful for that, actually, as the effort to keep up with scratchy hair like that would have been too much for him. Beards were fine on others, so long as they were well-maintained, but he didn't want one of his own. "The stress-lines were unexpected, though. Aren't you close to my age?"

"If I knew how old you were, then I could probably answer that," Anders said with a chuckle, "But you are right, I look older than I am. My years as a Grey Warden and….well, everything that's happened, they haven't been kind to me."

That's right, Anders was a Grey Warden. Fenris had spent so much time focused on the whole 'apostate mage who is also an abomination' thing that he had completely forgotten about the rest of Anders' past. He really should have remembered- it was part of the reason why Carver was still alive now- but it had slipped his mind. "You have been a Grey Warden for some time, haven't you?"

"I have," Anders answered, and he let that hang in the air for a moment as his hand slid from his face to rub at the back of his neck uncomfortably, disturbing some of the newly-cut hair. A few seconds passed before Anders spoke again, saying, "It's been nearly twelve years now, by my count. I haven't actually worked as a Grey Warden in ages, but it's not something you can just walk away from. I'll hear the Calling eventually too, if Justice doesn't consume me before then."

Fenris found himself swallowing suddenly, as if he had just been given a bitter pill of some sort. "How long do you have before then?"

"It's hard to say," Anders said as he continued to look down, away from Fenris, "Some Wardens hear the Calling by their tenth year. Others make it for more than thirty. But the average seems to be around fifteen, and after then you'll have a year or two to get your things in order before…you know. Traditionally a Grey Warden would go to the dwarves that fight the Darkspawn in the Deep Roads and pledge the remainder of their life to them, so as to die during battle instead of being consumed from the inside out, but I doubt those same rules apply to me now."

It was a lot to take in, and Fenris was beside himself. He had always known that, eventually, Anders wouldn't be able to resist Justice anymore. It was just a matter of time before he was too worn-down to fight it anymore. But Anders didn't have only Justice to worry about, he had an entirely different death lurking in the near future as well. And if Anders had Joined twelve years ago, and the average was fifteen, plus a year or two more beyond that…

_'At this rate, I've got about five years before that happens. Maybe even less.'_

"You lied," Fenris said, his voice even but his feelings showing through the way his hands clenched into fists at his side, "When you said why you wanted to stay. You said that Justice would do you in within five years."

Anders was hesitant to answer to that, and with his head tilted down as it was it was hard for Fenris to see the emotion on his face. But before Fenris could demand answers, Anders finally spoke. "I did lie, yes. I…the reasoning didn't really matter to me at the time. What mattered was that you understood just how limited my time was. Using Justice as an excuse seemed like a better option."

"Because I hate Justice, right?" 

"Exactly. I didn't know how much you knew of the Grey Wardens, and that didn't seem like the time for a lengthy explanation." It was a flimsy excuse, but at least it didn't sound like Anders was lying. Fenris wasn't sure how much he should trust those words, though, since apparently Anders was a really good liar.

"No more lying," Fenris said finally, his voice firm, "I am already allowing you to stay, so you owe me the truth in matters."

Anders nodded in agreement. It was then that he finally looked up to Fenris, his gaze as firm as Fenris' was. "Don't mistake my explanation for a cry for help," he said, "I don't want to be pitied. I chose all of this: the Grey Wardens, Justice, all of it. I don't fear my own impending death, nor do I regret that I have but a few years left. I simply want you to understand why my time is limited, and why these next few years matter to me."

That…Fenris hated many of the choices Anders had made. He saw Anders- the Anders from years ago, back in Kirkwall- as rash and irresponsible and incredibly selfish for everything he had done. If it had been Fenris' choice, he would have killed him back then, when the decision had been left in Hawke's hands. But the fact that Anders was accepting responsibility for it all, that he accepted the natural conclusion of the choices he had made…Fenris could respect that, at the very least. Anders had made some horrible decisions in his life, but he was willing to face the consequences head-on. That was why Fenris was willing to give him a chance.

"Then make these years count," Fenris said, offering out a hand to Anders to aid him in standing up, "You're asking a lot of me, to be the one to console Malcolm when you die. So you better make each moment memorable."

Anders didn't take Fenris' hand at first, and instead he continued to look up at Fenris as he spoke. "That's what I plan on doing. But I don't intend to be there only for Malcolm. Garrett is your son, but given the close proximity to him, I should give him consideration as well. It wouldn't be fair to him, if I spoiled Malcolm and paid him no mind. And Hawke too, when she returns from her war. She is yours now, I would never deny that or try to win her back. But she deserves closure at the very least. And…it may be a lot to ask, but I would like it if you and I ended things on an amicable note at the very least." It was only then, once he had said his piece, that Anders finally took Fenris' hand to pull himself to his feet.

It was a lot to ask, admittedly. Anders was essentially asking to be a permanent fixture in the lives of the Hawke family for the next few years. Fenris' first instinct was to tell Anders that he was overstepping his boundaries, that his family would be fine without the interference of an apostate, but those words just wouldn't make it to his mouth. Anders was leaving himself emotionally bare, and for some inexplicable reason Fenris just couldn't find it in himself to be cruel to him. A rather funny change, given that Fenris had never held back on his cruelty before.

When he looked at Anders, he still saw the irresponsible mage who had destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall and had started a revolt that had killed so many people. He saw the same pride and anger that had ruined his own life, that tainted almost every mage alive (Hawke herself being one of the very few exceptions). But he also saw the man who genuinely cared for both Malcolm and Garrett, the one who hummed songs for them to lull them to sleep, the one who healed the sick and wounded even when he had been warned not to, the one who wordlessly stepped in to help others (and even Fenris himself) without any expectation of getting something in return. Fenris was beginning to see how wonderfully complex Anders was, and how it was impossible to pass judgement on him now.

"We'll see," Fenris said finally, "Hawke gets as much of a say in this as I do, and I cannot guarantee that we will become friends. But if you're trying, then we'll see."

It was the best Fenris could offer Anders then, and it was far more than he would have considered even a few months ago. Funny, how seeing someone daily changes a person.


	10. Chapter 10 [Malcolm]

Malcolm gasped as he jolted awake, fingers digging into his pillow as if his life depended on it. It was dark in the room, too dark to see much of anything in the small room. It was a new moon, and the torches had long since been put out for the night, so even the small window that overlooked the dirt street below offered little in terms of lighting. The darkness definitely did not help with that sense of panic that was lingering within him, a panic that usually subsided pretty quickly after a nightmare. 

It had to be the unfamiliar room, he decided. Even if they were all there together (save Mom, who was hundreds of miles away saving the world), it was still a strange place that definitely wasn't home. Not that they had been home in some time, but he had almost gotten used to sleeping on the road. Dad let him sleep next to him when they were on the road.

Malcolm closed his eyes again, but he did not try to go back to sleep. Instead, he did it for focus; it was far easier to Listen when he wasn't trying to look at stuff at the same time. The panic in him wasn't helping, and he had to take a few deep, steadying breaths before he could really focus on finding the songs.

There, lying in the darkness in a too-warm bed, Malcolm began to Hear.

The first song he heard was, as usual, Garrett's. They always shared a bed, so he was right there, ready to be heard. Garrett's song was a simple one, barely more than his usual heartbeat. All songs started like that, he had found. A baby's song was just an extension of their own heart, pulsing with the flow of their very life. It wasn't until they were a little older, about Garrett's age, that their song started to get more complex. A quiet, alternating beat had started to mix into Garrett's song, moving it from a simple pulse of life to mismatched footsteps. _Bum_ bum, _bum_ bum, and so on and so on. His baby brother was becoming more of a real person, instead of just a baby. That thought was enough to bring a small smile to Malcolm's lips.

That song was enough to push away most of the panic, which let Malcolm's mind wander farther, Listening to more songs. Dad's was next, his usual mix of a strong, comforting tempo with a firm bit of sadness that sat in the middle of it, interrupting the song at times. Sturdy, secure, but also burdened. Songs didn't really change much, but Dad's song was one of the few exceptions: the magic he had wasn't his own, so when he used it a second song mixed in with his own, obscuring that steady beat and making it airier, lighter. Dad wasn't a mage, but when he used his weird magic his song sounded like a mage's song. A fact that Malcolm would never tell Dad, even if he ever found out about the songs Malcolm could hear. He was sure his dad would not be pleased to hear that he sounded like the people he hated.

Next was Papa's, which was another strange song to listen to because it was really three songs in one. Right now the loudest of the three was Papa's own song: a gentle one, one that ebbed and flowed like water did. There was sadness to it as well, like Dad's song, but it was different. Instead of being a hard lump that sat in the middle of the song noticeably, Papa's sadness flowed along with the rest of his song. Whereas Dad's sadness interrupted Dad's song, Papa's sadness had become a part of it. 

It was probably the one he liked the most, next to Mom's, and he could have listened to it for hours if not for the other two songs that were always present. Even now, Malcolm frowned slightly as the second song perked up slightly, apparently noticing that Malcolm was Listening to it. This song was _weird_ , definitely not something from this world. It wasn't human, or Elven, or anything else like that. It was more like the strange things Malcolm saw sometimes, floating in the air as they watched people curiously. They were all from Somewhere Else, he could tell, and this second song was from Somewhere Else too. It was a heavy beat, almost like war drums, and it practically demanded being listened to when it got loud enough. Malcolm didn't particularly like that song too much.

But as much as he disliked the second song, the third was the worst. Malcolm had heard the song before, as it was one that was common among many different people. He had heard it in Starkhaven, in a couple people in the slums. He had heard it on the road, when a Grey Warden had shared their camp for a night. He remembered hearing it a lot a long time ago, back when it was just him, Mom, and Papa, but he had been too little then to understand. He understood it now, though: that song was Rot. It was twisted, sick, scratching notes, ones that corrupted a person's song and made them into something else entirely. Malcolm hated that song the most, because whenever he heard it he knew that person was going to die eventually. Dad may not have explained the Blight to him, but he knew what it was. 

He tried not to think about it too much, especially not the fact that Papa had that song within him. Thinking about it just made him anxious, which didn't help at all, especially not now when he was trying to calm himself down. So he moved his mind away from Papa, and stretched out into the city itself, trying to listen to other songs out there. 

He frowned as he stumbled across the Same Song, the one that always meant that trouble was coming. He should have expected to hear it, there was a Chantry in this small town, but he still didn't like it much. The song itself wasn't too bad, it was just a song, like all the others. On its own it sounded perfectly normal, almost calming in a way. But experience had taught Malcolm that this song was the song of the Templars, and that it was there because it had changed a person's song into the Same Song. Malcolm didn't really understand why, but he didn't like that. Everyone should have their own song, so when people sounded the same it always made him uneasy. Just like how the Rot Song was bad because it changed a person's song, the Same Song was equally bad. Even if it didn't kill people like the Rot Song did.

Thankfully, most of the people in the town had their own, unique melodies, ones that helped ease Malcolm back into a sleepy state. He could Hear the light, quick song of a farmer's daughter, one that made Malcolm want to dance in his spot. He could Hear the slower, calmer song of that same farmer's mother, one that showed her age but also her experience. He could hear the happy hymns of the Chantry priests, songs of praise that felt like they could call the Maker back to this world if they only sung loud enough. There was even the song of another elf, one camped out on the outskirts of town, one that sounded more like wind rustling the leaves than a proper song.

Malcolm tried to Listen for the dwarves in town, but he found that he couldn't focus on them that night. Even if Dwarves did not have magic, they still had songs. Quiet, sturdy songs, ones that felt more like hammer strikes or footsteps than music. It was weird to Malcolm, who was used to the songs of elves and humans, and he had to really focus to even hear them at all. But they were there, and they could be reassuring too.

Finally he was calm, almost ready to sleep, but he had one last thing to do before he let his dreams claim him once more. Rolling over in bed to face his brother, Malcolm reached out and gently shook Garrett's shoulder. "Hey," he whispered, trying not to be heard by the adults in the room, "Hey, wake up?"

Garrett moved a little, scrunching up his face a bit before responding. "Mmm?" 

Malcolm wasn't sure if Garrett was trying to say his name or not, but he took it as a sign that his brother was listening. "I saw Mom."

That seemed to get Garrett's attention, though the younger boy still didn't open his eyes. "Ma?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "In my dream, I saw her there."

"Not real," Garrett said sleepily, his previous attention quickly floundering.

"No, it felt real! Mom was there, and so were these other guys too," He was quickly losing Garrett's attention, so he pressed on, describing his dream for him. "One of them was a Grey Warden, he had that same uniform like the one we met had. And there were elves too, two of them! One was kinda old and bald, and he looked like a hobo. But the other one, he was all fancy-looking. He even had this weird glowy mark on his hand. And then there was this other guy too, he was human but he had darker skin like you and Dad do, and when he talked he said weird words like Dad does sometimes. And then there was a…"

Malcolm frowned suddenly. "I…he looked human, but he didn't sound right. He sounded like he was from Somewhere Else, I think."

"Go sleep," Garrett said irritably, trying to shove Malcolm's hand away.

Sighing, Malcolm pulled his hand back and left Garrett alone. "But I did see it," he whined, more to himself now that he was sure his brother was sleeping again, "And she saw me. She said…"

_"Malcolm? What are you doing here? It's not safe!"_

_"A child in the Fade? And a Dreamer at that? Hawke, you didn't tell me your son was a mage, let alone one this powerful at such a young age."_

_"He isn't! Or…I suppose he is. I guess it isn't that surprising, given his lineage, but he hadn't shown any signs of magic when I last saw him."_

_"This is quite incredible. With your permission I should like to meet him, once we have defeated Corypheus of course."_

_"Yes yes, the boy is quite fascinating. But we should be more focused on other matters, perhaps? Such as keeping him out of the Fade while we try to deal with this Nightmare?"_

_"You're right, Dorian. Solas, we'll talk about this later. Malcolm, you need to go home now."_

_"But Mom-"_

_"I know sweetie, I miss you too. But I'll be home before you know it. Take care of your father and brother for me, alright?"_

_"…okay…"_

Malcolm didn't really understand most of that, which was frustrating because he really wanted to. Magic was Mom's realm, and he wanted to be a part of that world too. But he wasn't ready for it yet, it seemed. For now, all he could do was hold onto Mom's words and wait for her to come home. "…she misses us. And she can't wait to be home. And I gotta take care of you and Dad." He paused. "And Papa, I guess. I shoulda told her about Papa."

Then again, if it really was just a dream, she wouldn't have actually heard anything he had to say right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short interlude to give you some insight into something that's going to be happening in an upcoming chapter.
> 
> Also I'm taking some artistic liberties with the whole 'song' thing, but in my defense Malcolm is the son of two powerful mages and it is entirely possible that he would develop some new kind of magic.


	11. Chapter 11

In the end, Fenris and Anders decided to not go all the way to Tantervale. The reason for this decision was twofold, actually. For starters, going to another big city seemed like a bad idea. After what had happened at Starkhaven, Fenris fully expected templars in any big city to be on alert for anyone matching their descriptions. This was especially true for a city like Tantervale, where the chantry was pretty much the law. It wasn't like either of them could hide their identities well, after all. At least if they hid in a small town, they could befriend all of the people there and hopefully win them over before templars came calling.

The second reason, and arguably the more important of the two, was that Tantervale was close to the border with Tevinter. Which shouldn't have been a problem, it was still a part of the Free Marches and there were other cities far closer to the Silent Plains. But they were still a good distance away from Tantervale, and already they were hearing rumors of slavers traveling the roads, looking for people to kidnap away into slavery. As much as Fenris would have loved to go hunting for some slavers, he would not put his boys into harm's way. If either of them got snatched away in the middle of the night, he would never see them again. He wasn't going to risk that.

So instead, they stopped at a small town in the countryside, not unlike the one Fenris and Hawke had made into their home for the last few years. There were maybe 100 or so people living in the town itself, and then another 200-ish living on farms in the surrounding lands. Small, unexciting, and the perfect place to stay through the winter. 

Fenris secretly hoped that they would be able to head home in the spring, but he wasn't relying on that fact quite yet. There were still too many unknown factors to worry about, like if Hawke would be coming home, or if the templars would finally stop looking for them.

The town had a small tavern that also served as an inn, and Fenris was able to procure a room for the four of them for the night. It only had one bed, though, so once again he and Anders would be sleeping on the floor. An annoyance, but one that he could deal with. The boys deserved a warm bed to sleep in way more than he did.

Since it was still early in the evening, the four of them were out in the tavern area, eating a small dinner. It was nothing too fancy, since this was a small town and Fenris needed to make their coins last until he found some odd jobs to do, but it was enough to fill them at the very least. The boys seemed to enjoy a meal that wasn't cooked over a campfire too. They really had been on the road for too long, Fenris decided as he idly munched on a bit of hard bread.

Suddenly, the doors to the tavern were shoved open, and a young woman came running in. "Aren," she called out, rushing over to the long, worn table that served as the bar, "Please, come quick! Harold was chopping some firewood, and his axe missed-"

Fenris could already feel Anders moving to stand up, so he quickly reached over and grabbed the sleeve of his coat, pulling him back down. "Not here," he hissed under his breath.

He wasn't looking at Anders, as he was trying to act natural, but he could still feel Anders' glare on his neck. "I can help without magic too," was the harsh whisper Fenris got in reply.

"You can, but will you?" It was a valid question. He didn't doubt Anders' abilities as a doctor, he had seen just how much good the man could do. You didn't run a clinic for seven years if you weren't good at what you did. But Fenris also knew that Anders was notoriously bad at keeping his healing magic out of his doctor duties. It may have been a bit selfish of him, but Fenris wanted at least one night's rest in relative safety.

Apparently Anders took this as a challenge, because he ripped his coat sleeve out of Fenris' hand and stood up. He took two long strides away from the table before he finally spoke up, saying to the girl, "I'm a doctor, perhaps I can be of assistance?"

Fenris sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose. As much as he wanted to go punch Anders right then, he knew that it would just make a scene. Plus, the boys were right there, and he hated fighting in front of them. He didn't even do it with Hawke, and their rare marital spats were largely yelling matches that didn't matter once cooler heads prevailed. He would just have to express his displeasure with Anders' actions later. When they were alone. And hopefully somewhere that Fenris could truly yell at the idiotic man.

Anders hurried out the door with the girl and the bartender, but Fenris remained behind with the boys. He didn't say anything about it, even though he noticed both boys watching curiously as Anders left. Garrett in particular was pouting about it, something that struck Fenris as odd, since the younger boy had never seemed too attached to Anders.

"You're pouting, little one," Fenris said dryly, reaching over and taking Garrett's bread in his hand. He tore off a few more small chunks, so that Garrett could easily pick them up and eat them.

The boy just continued to scowl, looking away from the door and to the now-empty spot where Anders had been sitting. "No sweets," he said ruefully, as if he were declaring some kind of punishment. 

It took a moment for Fenris to piece together his son's usually-obtuse logic, but he snorted when he finally understood: Garrett wasn't staring at the chair Anders had left empty, but rather at the half-eaten plate of food. Something which meant 'no dessert' in the Hawke household. Always a stickler for the rules, his son was.

"You're absolutely right," Fenris said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "That was pretty rude of him, wasn't it? We will have to eat his share of dessert."

Garrett nodded, and then he returned to nibbling on his little chunks of bread. Malcolm, however, had stopped eating to give his father a frown of his own. "But dad," he said, "Papa's just helping!"

"And he can help himself to his cold plate of food when he comes back," Fenris said simply.

During that momentary distraction, Garrett had grabbed what was remaining of his biggest chunk of bread and slipped it onto Malcolm's plate. Malcolm hadn't noticed, but Fenris had, though he elected to say nothing. Instead he continued to eat, focusing more on Malcolm and his bout of irritability that followed. Malcolm wasn't arguing, but his displeasure was made clear even without words. The way he angrily chewed on bits of meat and cheese was particularly telling.

It was a good thing that Fenris and Anders didn't fight in front of the boys. Fenris had a feeling that it wouldn't win him favor with Malcolm, even when he was right (which he usually was).

Garrett, however, finished up the tiny bits of bread on his plate in record time. When his plate was clear, he said, "Done." Then he looked to Fenris expectantly. His eyes practically screamed out 'treat now', which was not unexpected since Garrett had definitely inherited his sweet tooth. The boy could munch on apples and strawberries all day and be content, if Fenris let him.

Fenris reached over to Malcolm's plate, picked up the offending chunk of bread- which Malcolm was just beginning to notice, since he had apparently missed the fact that he had two on his plate while he had been stewing in his anger- and tore off a few more pieces to put on Garrett's plate. "If you want to be sneaky, then you need to make sure you are unseen," Fenris said, using more of a 'teacher' voice than a 'scolding' one. Sleight-of-hand acts like that were becoming more common with the young boy, and Fenris had a feeling that his son would become a rogue of some sort when he was older. It was probably better to teach him to be properly sneaky, rather than trying to punish him for something he likely would not outgrow.

Garrett glowered at Fenris, but he still picked up a piece of the bread, shoving it into his mouth while he watched his father. Great, Fenris said to himself silently, now both of his boys were upset with him. Being a father was such a joy sometimes.

\---

It was late when Anders came back, so late that the boys were already asleep and Fenris himself had started to nod off in the chair he had been sitting in. His sword was balanced against the small table in the room, and his armor was on the table itself, strewn about around the single candle that cast a delicate glow on the room, leaving Fenris a bit more vulnerable than he would have liked given the circumstances. It made his sleep much lighter, so much so that as soon as he heard the doorknob turn he went from 'almost asleep' to 'awake, on his feet, and with a hand extended to shove into the intruder's chest' before the door opened fully.

It was only Anders' startled gasp that got him to drop his guard. "So you're finally back," he said, speaking quietly. Even in this startled state, he had the presence of mind to not speak loud enough to wake up the boys.

"Andraste's tits," Anders cursed, squeezing his eyes shut suddenly. Fenris could have sworn that he saw that familiar glow begin to pick up, but it was as gone as abruptly as it had appeared. When Anders' eyes opened again they were normal, but they were also glaring right at him. "Don't _do_ that! Do you want Justice to jump in and take over?"

"I thought you had him under control," Fenris said, relaxing a bit and moving into a crossed-arm posture.

"I do, it just-" Anders sighed suddenly. "Just- don't startle me like that, alright?"

"You're the one who's doing the startling," Fenris pointed out.

"By opening a door?" It did sound ridiculous when Anders put it like that, but Fenris didn't admit to it out loud. Instead he just gave Anders a look as he waited, and soon enough Anders was speaking again. "It was a success, by the way. The poor guy nearly chopped his foot off. Luckily there were enough materials on-hand that I was able to patch him up."

Fenris still didn't speak, but he raised an eyebrow in response. The silence lasted a moment before Anders said, "Fine, fine, I did use some magic. But I had to, otherwise I would have had to amputate."

"So now we have to wake the boys up and move on to the next town," Fenris said in an accusing tone. He had warned Anders against getting involved for this very reason: he wouldn't hold back on using magic if magic would help.

Anders shook his head, and he sounded entirely too upbeat when he spoke. "Surprisingly, no. Aren- that's the bartender- he was…well, apparently most of the people here don't like magic at all, but they make an exception for healing magic. He said he would keep quiet about my magic use so long as I only did healing, and nothing more. He also offered to let us keep this room for now, free of charge, so long as I work as the town's doctor." He paused, then quickly added, "The town's _normal_ doctor. Even if most everyone here is tolerant of healing magic, it would still be best to save it for emergencies only. They might like having a doctor, but having a known apostate among their numbers could still get them in trouble with the templars."

"So it's the same thing we will run into with every town this side of Tevinter," Fenris said, stating the obvious so that the point was clear to both himself and to Anders, "Keep the magic-use quiet, and everybody will look the other way."

Anders nodded. "I wouldn't be paid in coin, but we wouldn't have to worry about housing or food for the time being. And since my duties would be relatively light with so few people here, that would leave me free to watch the boys while you pursued other work that actually pays. It seemed like a reasonable arrangement."

It was actually a pretty good deal, all things considered. Even if there was a bit of danger to it, that was danger that they would encounter anywhere. It would get them through winter, at the very least. Fenris nodded approvingly as he said, "That seems reasonable. Though I must say, the stone floors here are not very comfortable. We may need to look into some furs to use as padding."

"Oh, no, that will be taken care of," Anders said, "They're bringing in a second bed for us tomorrow."

"Only a second bed," Fenris asked questioningly, and when he saw how uncomfortable the question made Anders he suddenly narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why is it only one more bed, Anders?"

Anders struggled with his words for a second, looking away uncomfortably as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well…you know how things are with Malcolm and what he calls us. Apparently the people in the tavern overheard it, and combined with what I had to call you-"

"What did you call me," Fenris demanded, interrupting Anders.

"I couldn't use your real name," Anders said in protest, "And I didn't want to think of a fake one without talking with you first, so that we didn't slip up by giving two different names. So I…may have…called you my 'companion' when talking about you."

There were no words to describe the absolutely incredulous look on Fenris' face at that moment. "What."

"It seemed like the best choice at the time," Anders said defensively. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, trying to straighten it out, but in the end it only made that hair messier. "How was I supposed to know that 'companion' apparently means 'lover' around here? And the fact that Malcolm calls us both his father didn't help with that mental picture either!"

The town thought that he and Anders were lovers, raising two children together.

Maker help him, it took all of his willpower to not start glowing in anger.

"This is a mess," Fenris said in defeat, accepting this horrible fate as he tipped his head back and covered his face with his hands. The worst part of it all was that Fenris knew he couldn't correct the people on that point, not now, and not with how the boys acted around both of them. If he tried to, then they would know something was up, and they would start asking questions. Questions that would probably require the four of them to run away again. If they wanted a stable life for the next few months, then Fenris was going to have to pretend to like Anders a lot more than he actually did.

'PLEASE come home soon,' Fenris said to himself, as if Hawke would be able to hear his silent prayers, 'you were always so much better at handling nonsense like this.'


	12. Chapter 12

Getting the boys to go along with the whole 'we're actually a family now' thing wasn't as hard as Fenris had expected it to be. Garrett didn't talk much anyway, so he wasn't the primary concern, but Fenris had expected some resistance from Malcolm. The older boy loved his mother dearly, and their whole livelihood in this town depended on pretending that she wasn't a part of their lives. But surprisingly, Malcolm had taken it all in stride. "Okay," he said simply, after it was explained to him.

Fenris and Anders cast sideways glances at each other, both clearly doubting that it could be that simple. When they looked back to Malcolm, it was Anders who spoke, tentatively saying, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Malcolm said, "You love mom, and dad loves mom, so it's kinda like you two are married anyway. Just with mom in there too."

Ah, the logic of children.

Not that Fenris liked said logic, but if it got Malcolm to not give away the truth of who they were, then it would work for now.

Anders, however, seemed a bit uncomfortable by it. "That's not-" He glanced to Fenris nervously, then back to Malcolm, and he said, "That's not entirely true-"

"It's fine," Fenris said suddenly, waving off Anders' awkward movements and terrible attempts at an explanation, "Don't confuse the boy, it's enough to get the point across for now." Though secretly, Fenris was glad that Anders had been made uncomfortable by that. Hawke was his now, Anders had no claim to her affections anymore. As long as he understood his place in all of this, then everything would be fine.

Much later, Anders approached Fenris to ask him something that may have been a bit too personal. "Are you and Hawke married?"

Fenris gave Anders a suspicious look- why would he ask about something like that, it didn't particularly matter at that moment- but ultimately he decided to answer honestly. "We…talked about it. But we hadn't reached a definitive conclusion before she was called away to help the Inquisition." He purposefully left out the part about saving up for a ring. That money was long gone now anyway, used to keep the four of them fed and housed in the last few months.

Anders nodded slowly, accepting that answer. Then, a small smile spread across his face. Fenris was no fool, though, he could tell that smile was anything but happy. "You would probably take her name," he said finally, "Unless you have a last name you never told anyone about."

"I don't," Fenris said, starting to put his usual 'this conversation is over' tone into his words.

But Anders, he didn't seem to take the hint. Instead, he kept talking, though he was no longer looking at Fenris. He was looking out across the nearby field, watching the late summer sun beat down on the long grains of wheat as they swayed gently in the afternoon breeze. "You know, 'Anders' isn't my real name. I don't know my real name anymore, I've forgotten it. But it was the name they gave me in the circle, and it's the one I have now. They wanted us to forget everything about our past, in hopes that we wouldn't try to run away to a home we couldn't remember."

Fenris opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Anders' face, it made him stop. He knew that look all too well: the wistful, sad look of someone who was recalling bad memories but trying to find some good in them. It was a look he had seen on Hawke's face far too often for his liking, and he was sure it had appeared on his own face a few times.

His mouth dropped shut, forming into a small, almost-concerned frown. He couldn't say anything here, especially not anything unnecessarily mean like he had been contemplating.

Anders sighed, and he scratched at the back of his neck, his hand running through the loose hairs there. "I should be going though," he said, "I need to go check on the family down by the sawmill, the wife is due to give birth any day now."

Fenris let Anders leave, giving him nothing more than a little grunt of acknowledgement. But he stayed there and watched as Anders walked away, and he felt his stomach turn just a little bit. They were too much alike, he decided. Both given identities they didn't ask for, both having run far away from their captors as soon as they could, both trying to eke out a life in this unforgiving land… it bothered Fenris. It bothered him a lot.

And the fact that he was starting to feel pity for Anders, that he was starting to think 'maybe he got dealt a crappy hand', that bothered him the most.

Life was so much easier when Fenris just hated Anders.

\---

The end of summer meant that another important day was rolling around: Malcolm's birthday. 

Fenris had figured that Hawke wouldn't be around for this birthday. Travel time down to Ferelden and back alone would have kept her away until the beginning of fall. It was to be Malcolm's first birthday without his mother around, and Fenris wanted to make the day special, so that he didn't miss Hawke too much.

However, it seemed as though Anders was the one who was able to go above and beyond, going by the rather interesting display on the table. Fenris looked at it, then turned his attention to Anders, raising an eyebrow as he said, "A cake?"

"Yes, a cake," Anders said, stepping back to admire his work once it was safely on the table, "Just a carrot cake, with a bit of icing on it, but it's still a cake."

Fenris hummed thoughtfully, considering the cake once more. "And where did you get this cake from, exactly?" The unspoken implication there, of course, was 'you better not have wasted all of our money on this.' Though a moment after that Fenris became annoyed at himself, because it wasn't 'our money', it was 'Fenris' money', and thinking of it in plural terms like that was a bad idea.

"I didn't steal it, if that's what you're getting at," Anders said with a frown, "The Miller family, the one that just had the baby? This was a gift from them, for helping the wife during her labor."

"Ah." Well, that was an acceptable response too. For a moment Fenris considered correcting Anders, telling him that he most definitely hadn't thought that Anders had stolen it. But on second thought, he decided against it. If he did explain that, then he would have to explain what he had actually thought, which meant explaining the 'our money' thought. Which he absolutely refused to do. 

So instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he said, "I suppose Malcolm will enjoy it. He does like sweet things." And then a moment later he caught sight of a sneaky hand reaching out to the icing, and he spoke more firmly, saying, "Not yet, little one."

Garrett froze in place, and he peeked out from around the cake, scowling at his father. Fenris was unmoved by the scowl, though, and he matched it with a fierce look of his own. "That is for your brother, and we will be eating it after dinner."

Garrett continued to scowl at his father, but he was ultimately the first to break their staredown, and he stuck out his tongue at Fenris before dropping down under the table. Off to play with the little trinkets he found to amuse himself, no doubt. That one there, that was the one who was going to cause the most trouble, Fenris decided. Which was bothersome, because he had hoped that his own flesh and blood would listen to him more than he actually did.

A soft snicker from Anders drew Fenris' attention, and suddenly his scowl was entirely meant for the amused mage. "What."

"He's just like you," Anders said, still grinning and completely unfazed by Fenris' glare, "See? That look right now, you two matched perfectly."

"Hush you," was Fenris' only response. Though after the fact he wondered why he didn't use harsher words, given how annoying Anders was. After a bit of thought, he decided that it was because Garrett was there, and he didn't want his son repeating any curse words at such a young age. He had already picked up _'fasta vass'_ when Fenris had been careless with his cursing once, he didn't need to know any more.

Later, when Malcolm came back after playing all day with his newly-made friends in the town, all four of them had a quiet dinner and said their 'happy birthday's to Malcolm, ringing in his seventh year of life. The last to say 'congratulations' was Garrett, who simply stood up in his chair to get a better look at Malcolm and said, "Happ' Birth'." It was a half-assed effort, Fenris knew Garrett could say the full words if he actually tried, and it made Fenris snort in amusement. But what got him to actually laugh was how Garrett immediately turned to Fenris and said, "Cake now?"

Fenris had to hold a hand up to his mouth to cover it while the soft laughter escaped from him, despite his best efforts to stop it. "Yes, yes, alright," he said finally, "We can have cake."

Both Malcolm and Garrett cheered at that, and they both sat right back down, eager to get their piece of cake and tear right into it. Still smiling, Fenris turned to grab the knife from the table, but he hesitated for a moment.

Anders was sitting right there next to him, as he usually did. His coat was off, leaving him in his plain shirt and pants, similar to the clothing Fenris had gathered so he didn't have to go everywhere in his armor. But that wasn't what had caught Fenris' attention. What caught his attention was the look Anders was giving him. It was a startled look, leaving Anders' mouth hanging open ever so slightly, but there was also…something else to it. Something Fenris couldn't quite identify. 

And was that…were Anders' cheeks pink?

The absolutely confused look Fenris gave him must have snapped Anders out of his stupor, because he quickly looked away and said, "Nothing, it's nothing." Even though Fenris hadn't said anything to begin with.

"…well alright then," Fenris said, still confused, and he picked up the knife and turned his attention back to the cake. The entire incident had lasted maybe five seconds at most, but it left Fenris wondering what had just happened.

Thankfully, there was plenty of cake to distract everyone from that weird moment.

\---

"You don't have to sleep down there, you know."

Fenris looked up. Anders was already settling into bed, his coat and boots placed at the foot of his bed, and the blankets pulled back as Anders sat cross-legged on the mattress. Fenris had opted to make a little sleeping pallet for himself on the floor, piling up a few extra blankets and stealing one of the pillows from Anders' bed. It was still a bit uncomfortable, but it was manageable. He had slept with worse accommodations for years on end.

"What do you mean," Fenris asked. He was kneeling on the floor, preparing his own sleeping space, but he stopped to look up to the bed Anders was sitting on.

Anders wasn't quite looking at Fenris. His gaze was off to the side, down towards where his boots were, and he was fiddling with his hands in his lap. That nervous look was back, the one that told Fenris that Anders was overthinking something again. But it wasn't just nervousness on his part. There was a mix of something else in there too. Something…Fenris couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was familiar, whatever it was.

"You can sleep in the bed, you know," Anders said finally.

Almost immediately, Fenris responded with, "No. You earned that bed, I am not going to take it from you."

"Well, I mean, you don't _have_ to take it," Anders said, still fidgeting with his hands and keeping his gaze decidedly off of Fenris, "We could share it. Everyone expects it of us, nobody would say anything."

Fenris could only give Anders a flat look. A flat look that Anders seemed to catch out of the corner of his eye, because his nervous look turned to a frown as soon as he saw it. "No," Fenris repeated, and he crawled into his own bed on the floor and settled down for the night, his back to Anders.

Fenris said nothing more, but he heard Anders sigh and move about on the bed for a moment, before he finally settled down to sleep. What a foolish man, Fenris thought. Why did that mage think Fenris wanted to share a bed with anyone? Fenris was picky about his bed partners, even if it was literally for sleeping and no other ' nighttime extracurricular activities', and at this point in his life unless your name was 'Marian Hawke' he wasn't going to share a bed with you. Let the townspeople think what they wanted, the 'married couple' act would only hold outside of their private room.

\---

\---

Malcolm tried not to wander in his sleep. It was fun to go looking at all the different places he could, but it always left him tired the next day. And if he was tired too many days in a row, then Dad and Papa would surely find out what he was up to, and they would both tell him to stop. Which he didn't want to do, so he had to keep the dreamwalking a secret. A sparsely-used secret.

But that night, he couldn't help it. It was his birthday, and even if Dad and Papa had tried their best to make it a happy one, he was still missing Mom. He felt her absence in the night, after everyone had fallen asleep and he was left curled up next to Garrett, trying to push her from his mind but being unable to. He knew he had to be strong, to show Mom what a good boy he was and how he wasn't giving Dad any trouble, but…he missed her. A lot.

Which was how he found himself wandering in his dreams, even though he hadn't meant to. He searched for her song, trying to listen for that pleasant melody that always made him feel safe. He walked, and he walked, and he kept walking for what felt like an eternity, trying to get back to that place where he had heard Mom's song before. But nothing looked familiar, and he was completely, undeniably lost.

He saw the floaty things there, the ones that sounded like Somewhere Else. Most either ignored him or regarded him with curiosity. One particularly warm one, who sung the song of Somewhere Else with a rather soft hum, went right up to him, regarding him with curiosity. 

_"Why are you here, little one?"_

The words were not words Malcolm spoke. They sounded old, even older than the words Dad said sometimes when he was mad. But somehow he understood the meaning of what was being said, even if he didn't understand the individual words. This floaty thing, it was making sure he understood.

"I'm looking for Mom," Malcolm said honestly.

The floaty thing shook its head. 

_"Your Mother is not here. She left long ago, with the Wolf and their allies. You should return to your body, little one, before trouble finds you."_

"Trouble," Malcolm asked. He was too young to be properly afraid of that warning.

_"It is better for you to not know, they will not find you if you do not understand-"_

_"Enough, my friend."_

A second voice, this one much more solid and vaguely familiar, joined the conversation. Malcolm turned his head quickly to see who had spoken, and he saw an elf standing there. A familiar elf, to match that familiar voice. It was the elf he had seen before, Malcolm realized. The one who had been traveling with Mom.

Malcolm focused on the elf for a moment, trying to hear his song. And as soon as he started to Listen, he was struck with an almost overpowering melody, one as old as time itself. It was confusing to Malcolm, he couldn't quite place just what that song even was. It was like the songs of Somewhere Else, but…different, if only slightly. It was as if this elf had taken the song of Somewhere Else and had made it his own, shaping it to suit his needs. The very thought of which struck Malcolm as odd, actually. People where what their songs made them, not the other way around.

If he could control his own song, then he had to be powerful. More powerful than anyone Malcolm had ever met before. Even moreso that Mom, and he had thought that she was the strongest person ever.

"Who are you," Malcolm asked, peering up at the elf with wide eyes.

The elf smiled warmly at Malcolm. "You may call me Solas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops Anders caught a feeling. 
> 
> Let's see how long it takes Fenris to catch it too.


	13. Chapter 13

Fenris did end up finding work around town, though it wasn't as a mercenary. No, there were many other tasks that needed to be completed, especially now that fall was approaching. It was a bit early for harvesting yet, but with the crops growing tall and the animals and insects taking an interest in all of the produce, the farmers definitely needed a hand with pest control. Or six hands, as it turned out.

The boys seemed to like working on the farms, even if the work was a bit tedious. Check the crops for bugs, scare off any birds or deer before they got in the fields, that kind of thing. They rotated between the farms, going to the ones that needed the most help on any given day and spending the majority of the day there. Fenris was the only one who worked all day, though; the boys usually found other kids to play with by early afternoon.

Sometimes, when he didn't have patients to check on, Anders joined them. Even if his other work was difficult and thus earned Anders the right to take a day off every now and then, he still preferred to be working. "we have to earn our keep," he had told Fenris once before, when he had been asked about it, "We're pretty much staying here for free. I don't want to wear out our welcome by being lazy for a day."

Fenris was pretty sure that one day of rest wouldn't make Anders lazy, but he had accepted that answer. Truth be told, even though the mage got on his nerves sometimes, the company wasn't unappreciated. Fenris wasn't much of a talker, but he did listen, and hearing Anders tell a story or hum while they worked was refreshing. It filled the silence in a way that wasn't annoying or bothersome. And seeing that satisfied look on Anders' face when the job was done, that was…'reassuring' probably wasn't the most accurate description, but it was the word Fenris was most comfortable with ascribing to that feeling. Anders didn't shy away from hard work like most mages did, which was an admirable trait.

It reminded him of Hawke, too. The more he got to know Anders, the more he could see the similarities between him and Hawke, and he could begin to understand why Hawke had felt so strongly about him. It had always been the one question nagging at Fenris' mind, even before he himself had started to develop romantic feelings for Hawke: why did she like Anders? Once upon a time, back when they all lived in Kirkwall and the boys hadn't been born yet, he had been absolutely befuddled by Hawke's attraction to Anders, of all people. But now, he understood it.

Not that he felt the same way, he said decisively to himself. Even if Hawke and Anders had similarities, Fenris was most definitely not attracted to him. His love for Hawke was still going strong, even with all these months apart. But he understood why someone might be attracted to Anders. And with that understanding, he might be able to play the part of 'loving husband' a bit more easily.

…'loving husband'…

For a moment Fenris wondered if he should treat Anders how he normally treated Hawke. Their relationship was…complicated at times, but overall he liked to think he had been a loving husband to her. Or spouse. Or whatever it was when two people were practically married but hadn't done the paperwork for it. But in any case, that would probably be a good benchmark of what he should do to keep appearances up. Nobody had ever doubted that Fenris and Hawke were committed to each other, so he must have been doing something right.

Though with Hakwe their affection had been frequently physical in nature, and Fenris definitely did not want to do any of that with Anders. Even stuff like holding hands on a brisk autumn walk, or sneaking kisses while preparing dinner, those were way too personal for this. Just the thought of doing those things with Anders made Fenris hot in the face, and not in the good way.

It made him miss Hawke, too. Usually he tried to keep her out of his thoughts, to focus on the day-to-day work that needed to be done, but now she was at the forefront of his mind. He missed her terribly. He missed the way her laugh sounded like music to his ears. He missed the way she would sneak up behind him and give him a big hug. He missed the way they would spend hours together, doing nothing more than sitting next to each other, maybe leaning on each other, talking about everything and nothing at the same time while she ran her hands through his hair. He missed the whispered reassurances she would give him whenever he was woken up by a nightmare, or whenever a particularly bad memory clouded his thoughts. She was his everything, she made him whole. And without her there, he was left incomplete and unsatisfied.

Fenris drew in a sharp breath, pausing in his work as he felt the prickle of a migraine dancing behind his eyebrows. Damn, he shouldn't have thought about Hawke right then. The loneliness always made him hurt, and migraines were one of the more bothersome ways that hurt could manifest.

"Are you alright," Anders called out.

Fenris looked up. Anders was a couple rows over, pulling weeds out from between the rows of tomato plants. Or he had been, before he stood up fully and looked over in Fenris' direction. Irritatingly enough, Anders seemed to have a look of concern on his face. Even if he couldn't have known that he had indirectly led to the migraine that was starting to plague Fenris, it was still an extra annoyance on top of the pain.

"I'm fine," Fenris said, trying not to spit out the words too harshly as he also stood up, "I'm taking a break."

He had to walk to the end of the row, but thankfully there was a line of short trees there, which served as a divider between the two fields. Fenris plopped down in the shade of one of them, leaning his back against the cool bark of the tree. This side had been in the shade for most of the day, it seemed. Not that it helped with the pounding in his head much.

The quiet did not last long, though, as before long he heard the telltale footfalls and rustling sounds of someone walking up a row of crops. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know who it was, either. "Leave me be," he said irritably as he rubbed at his forehead, trying to soothe the pain away.

"In a moment," Anders said dismissively as he reached Fenris. Ultimately he ended up kneeling in front of him, and he added, "Let me help you first."

"No," Fenris said firmly.

But Anders persisted. "It's a headache, isn't it? I can help with those, you know."

"It's a bit more than a headache, and my answer is still no."

Anders sighed. "At least explain why? I know you dislike magic, but you have never denied my healing when you actually needed it."

So that was how it was going to be, then. Fenris let out an annoyed noise and gave up on rubbing at his forehead, instead choosing to cover the upper-half of his face with a hand as he said, "It's not an injury, Anders. It is merely a migraine, nothing more. It does not need healing."

"And you would rather sit here and suffer for the afternoon than be done with it in five minutes?"

Fenris hated to admit it, but Anders did make a good point. If he wanted to get his work done, then he wouldn't be able to just sit around all day. He needed to get moving, and having a pounding head while trying to work was a terrible idea. It was just terrible enough to lose to the slightly-less-terrible idea of letting Anders heal him. 

With a groan, Fenris let his hands drop from his face. He kept his eyes closed, though, as he said, "Alright, if it will shut you up then go ahead and take care of it." Because obviously it was more important to keep Anders from complaining all afternoon. A hissy fit on his part would have only made the migraine worse.

Since his eyes were closed, Fenris obviously couldn't see what Anders was doing. That said, his other senses were doing a fine job of telling him exactly what was going on. Anders didn't speak right away, but Fenris could hear his breathing: slow, steady, just like how it usually was when Anders was concentrated on his work. Next he felt the light, feathery touches as Anders ran his fingertips over Fenris' forehead, an act that made Fenris flinch because even though light touches made his head hurt more. That was when Anders finally spoke, quietly saying, "You have quite a bit of tension here."

"I am aware," Fenris said dryly.

Next came an unusual sensation. He could tell it was magic, and Anders' magic at that- despite his usual protests against magic, Fenris couldn't deny the fact that Anders had healed him many times in the past, thus making him familiar with Anders' magic. But usually that magic was a warm glow, one that seeped into his skin and bones and soothed the pain away. This time it was like tiny lightning bolts were shooting out of Anders' fingertips, jumping from skin to skin and then burrowing through Fenris' skin to get down to where the pain was. Fenris would have expected it to hurt, but actually it felt quite good. It felt almost…cold, maybe, without actually being cold. It seemed to be just what was needed, though, as the 'cold' healing soothed the pain of the migraine far better than warmth usually did. And soon enough, as Anders began to move his fingers, gently massaging the little lightning bolts of healing into Fenris' forehead, the pain started to let up.

"Feeling better," Anders asked as he kept at his healing.

"Mmmm," was Fenris' only response. 

As the pain let up, Anders' fingers began to wander a little, tracing back along the lines of tension in Fenris' head. "You have quite a bit of pain up here," Anders commented, trailing his fingers back along Fenris' skull, "Are migraines common for you?"

Fenris would have liked to comment, but Anders had inadvertently found one of Fenris' weak spots: his hair. He did not trust many people with it, but running fingers through his hair, rubbing at his scalp like that, it felt _so good_ and it was a quick way to shut Fenris up whenever he was snapping at someone. And to mix a bit of healing into it, getting rid of the pain while leaving those amazingly good feelings of his hair being toyed with, that was enough to turn Fenris into putty right then and there. 

Fenris found himself leaning into the touch, but almost as soon as he started doing that Anders quickly withdrew his hands, an act that startled Fenris and made him open his eyes. For a moment Anders seemed to fumble over his words right there in front of him, holding his hands to his chest like he had been bitten by a snake or something. "I…well, yes, that should be good," Anders said finally, glancing away awkwardly.

It was true, the pain was gone. Fenris actually felt better than he had in months. All of the tension and stress had practically melted away from his body, leaving him clear-headed in a way that he had almost forgotten he could be like. "Actually, yes," Fenris said, reaching up to touch his forehead, "It doesn't hurt at all now." He hadn't known that a tiny bit of healing could fix something like that.

"Good, yes. That's good." Anders stood up quickly, finally letting go of his own hands and instead using them to brush the dirt off of his pants. "We should- well, I will go ahead and get back to work then."

"Alright," Fenris said, though he didn't stand up quite yet. He was busy watching Anders as he hurried away, returning to the field with a bit of urgency that seemed entirely unneeded.

And it might have been the fault of the sunlight beating down on them all day, but Fenris could have sworn that Anders' cheeks had been just a touch pink once more.

\---

Several days later, Fenris was back at the inn, tidying up the room a bit before everyone came in for the evening. Normally he would not have worried too much about keeping the room spotless. That was an impossible task while sharing one room with two young boys and a 'doctor' who insisted on filling all of the drawers with herbs to use in making potions and healing salves. But everything of value needed to be up off the floor, because soon anything left down there would get soaked.

It was the end of summer, and though it was still quite warm out, the weather had taken a turn in the last couple of days. Instead of being sweltering hot from sunrise to sunset, a cool breeze had begun to blow across the countryside as large, poofy clouds soared overhead. Clouds that had started as cotton-white, but that soon crossed into a rainbow of greys, making the afternoon dimmer than usual. Then, as he had been walking home from a visit to the nearby apple orchard (the apples wouldn't be ready for another month, he had found out), he had picked up the scent on the breeze.

Rain was coming. Lots of it.

Fenris wasn't the only one who had noticed the change in weather. The owner of the inn- Aren, Fenris remembered- and his wife had begun the arduous task of rolling up the large rug they normally kept on the floor near the entrance and storing it in the rafters above the bar. Other objects, namely those that would get damaged by the presence of water, were also stored out of the way. 

It seemed as though everyone else had the same idea Fenris did. Rain brought flooding, and it was best to prepare ahead of time for that. 

"It's going to be a bad one," Fenris heard Aren say from the main room of the inn, "I can feel it in my bones. This storm, it's going to last a while. We best get the animals inside the barn too."

Fenris, who was just about done preparing the room anyway, set the last blanket down on Anders' bed and stepped over to the doorway. It was impolite to eavesdrop, he knew it, but he could easily pretend that he hadn't been listening in. Or, at least, it would be enough plausible deniability for everyone to save face. "I am finished in here. Did you need help elsewhere?" Fenris did not particularly like caring for animals- that was Anders' specialty- but he still needed to pull his own weight around here. Aren was the primary one providing food for his family, so he wanted to prove that he wasn't a freeloader.

"That's mighty kind of you," Aren said. He and his wife were just finishing with stuffing the carpet up in the rafters, so Fenris waited for a moment as they finished that work. When they were done, Aren let out a huge sigh of relief and said, "That's that! Now, if you want to help, come with me. There's some sheep that need to be put in the barn before the rain starts. I think your boys were out there in the field too."

"Well I certainly hope they weren't," Fenris said sourly as he followed the much-larger man outside, "That ram of yours would show them no mercy."

That drew a big belly laugh out of the bartender. "Ha! I think they're smart enough to know not to mess with ol' Grouch like that. He's in his own pen this time of year anyway."

As they stepped outside, a roll of thunder drew Fenris' attention to the horizon. The clouds above were grey and poofy, but the ones further away were as black as the night and went all the way to the ground. Lightning bounced around in the clouds, letting off flashes of light and rolling booms that made the hairs on Fenris' neck stand up. This was going to be a very bad storm, he realized.

"I hope the inn will be alright," he murmured under his breath. The last thing he needed was for his temporary home to get swept away by the rain.

Aren clapped a hand down on Fenris' shoulder, and the sheer force of it shook Fenris a little. The bartender was quite strong, and he didn't hold back in any of his gestures. "It will be fine," he said reassuringly, "That's hardly the worst storm I have seen. As long as everyone gets inside, it'll be alright."

Fenris nodded in return, but he still felt a bit unsettled. Something was going to go wrong, he could just feel it. With how everything had been going right lately, this would be just the right time for unfortunate accidents to start happening.

Fenris silently prayed that his paranoia would remain just that, and that everyone would be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short this time, but the next chapter is going to be very long, so that should make up for the shortness here.


End file.
